


Game Changer

by bri617



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Football!AU, Oliver as a single dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri617/pseuds/bri617
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Football!AU<br/>Oliver Queen is a lot of things: captain and starting quarterback of the Starling City Archers, single dad to a 9-year old boy, son of billionaires. But his life is turned upside down when he meets Felicity Smoak (probably the only woman in Starling who doesn’t know who he is). OLICITY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement intended. Just wanna have some fun ;)

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Oliver straightens the collar of his black coat as he leaves Table Salt behind him. A biting cold breeze greets him once he starts walking. After a truly Golden October with a lot of good weather, so far, November has only brought rain and cold to Starling City.

He starts walking the two blocks towards where he parked his car earlier, annoyed with his choice not to use the valet service of the restaurant. But then again, this allowed him to slip into the restaurant through the back door and have an undisturbed dinner with his best friend Tommy and his girlfriend Laurel, without the paparazzi huddling in front of the restaurant.

He loves his job dearly, but he could really do without all the media attention all the damn time.

His thoughts drift back to the dinner he just shared with two of his closest friends, unable to suppress the memory of _her_. The incredibly attractive blonde woman in a blood red dress who he'd seen standing at the bar, her head thrown back in laughter, the sound of it drifting over to where he was desperately trying to keep track of what Tommy was saying.

But time and time again, he failed to concentrate on the conversation that was happening at his table. Instead, he shot fleeting glances over to the mystery woman whom he felt an inexplicable pull towards the second he laid eyes on her.

She left the restaurant a few minutes before him, leaving him wondering if he should go after her and ask her for her name. The decision was taken from him when Tommy announced that he and Laurel would be calling it a night. Oliver took that as a sign and thanked them for dinner, telling the mâitre d' to put it on his tab on his way out.

He quickly stepped out the front door and his head whipped around in search of the mystery woman, but to his disappointment she was nowhere in sight, the street completely deserted.

He let out a frustrated groan. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be after all, he thought while he slipped into his coat.

As he walks down the street his thoughts are in a tangled mess of flashes of red silk, blonde hair and blue eyes. He shakes his head in dismay.

He missed his chance.

A mumbled curse dies on his tongue when he hears a muffled scream echo through the silent night. His head whips around, his step quickens as he looks around wildly, searching for the source. His heartbeat quickens when he reaches the entrance of a darkened alleyway. There, almost twenty yards from his position, he sees two men cornering a blonde woman... in a blood red dress.

Anger flares through him like a wildfire when he sees another man behind her, one hand pressed over her mouth, his other arm banded around her, pinning her hands to her chest, effectively quelling her desperate attempts to break free.

"Hey!" he hears himself yell, his deep voice ricocheting off the brick walls.

His feet are already carrying him towards the group before his brain can even register what he's doing and tell him just how stupid his idea is to go up against three potentially armed, definitely pretty bulky men without calling the police first. But as he gets closer -even in the semi-darkness of the alley- he can see the trepidation and the silent plea for help in the blue eyes of the mystery woman, and it only serves to fuel his determination to get her out of this.

The two guys that are in front of her turn towards him. "Mind your own business, pretty boy."

"Let her go," Oliver growls, impressed with how deep and intimidating his voice sounds.

"Fuck off," one guy snarls and lunges at him.

He never though that being a quarterback would come in handy off the football field one day, but by having guys try and tackle him every day in training, he knows exactly what to do and waits for the last possible moment to smoothly step out of the way, driving his elbow forcefully down into his attacker's back, sending him to the floor where his head hits the concrete with a sickening thud.

The second guy growls and starts his own attack, but Oliver blocks his hit and lands two quick hits of his own to the guy's stomach, throwing him off balance. Oliver uses the moment of distraction to hit him square in the jaw, a satisfying crack echoing off the walls before the thug slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Oliver turns to face the last thug who's perched behind the mystery woman, still clutching her to him tightly. He can't help but take in her tear-streaked face for a second. Mascara is running down her cheeks, and her hair that was in a perfect up-do mere minutes ago and is now hanging loose from where her attackers must've grabbed her head.

A new wave of rage surges through him. "Let. her. go," he growls slowly through gritted teeth.

The thug shoots him a cold look, but Oliver can see the doubt swirling through his eyes as they flicker down to his friends laying on the floor behind Oliver, out for the count.

There's a moment where the whole world seems to stand still. Oliver can hear his own quickened heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waits for his opponent to make the next move.

A siren wails somewhere on the main street, close to the alleyway, making the thug flinch and turn his head in the direction of the alley's entrance.

"Let her go," Oliver repeats calmly, calling an audible. No, he didn't call the cops before he went into the alley and he doubts that anyone else has noticed what's going on, so he figures that the police car is driving off to another crime scene, which means he only has seconds before the car passes and the thug realizes he's not in danger of being caught.

He takes a step forward, hoping to force his opponent into making a decision.

A split second passes and then the thug releases his grip and pushes the blonde woman forcefully away from him, right into Oliver's arms, while the smaller man takes off running.

Oliver lets out a relieved breath, bowing his head down to get a closer look at the woman in his arms. She's slumped against his chest, hands gripping his jacket desperately. He just stands there, in a dark alleyway, two attackers still lying unconscious on the floor just a few yards away, with the mystery woman leaning heavily against him. His hands hover somewhat awkwardly at her sides, unsure whether he should touch her or if that would scare her off.

A minute passes before the eery silence gets too much. "Are you okay?" he whispers, feeling stupid for even asking her when she's clearly _not_ okay.

Instead of answering, she flinches, gripping his jacket even tighter.

He holds his breath, unsure of what to do next.

Then suddenly a choked sob rings through the cold night and her knees buckle beneath her. He's so surprised that all he can do is letting himself sink to his knees with her still wrapped tightly in his arms.

He doesn't even know this woman, but she manages to break his heart into little pieces with every shaky intake of breath. Helplessly, he wraps his arms around her, trying to soothe some of her pain.

A string of words fall from her lips, but they're just a jumbled mess in between tears and whimpers. He lowers his lips to the side of her head, vaguely registering the industrial piercing that creates a stark contrast to her glamorous dress, and whispers calming words against the shell of her ear.

They stay like that for a solid ten minutes until Oliver starts growing restless. The two knocked out thugs lying so close to them making him feel uneasy. Her sobs have died down, now reduced to soft whimpers that rack her body every so often.

He almost misses it when she speaks up, her voice muffled by his coat. "I'm fine now."

He lets out a relieved breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "We should call the police," he says quietly.

Her head shoots up, their eyes meeting, her eyebrow curling into a frown. "But..." she trails off, her head turning to the empty entrance of the alley. "Oh," she breathes out when realization dawns on her that the police never actually arrived to take over the scene. 

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't really have time to call the police and then I just..." he gestures towards the Main Street, "Went with it."

She nods slowly and turns back to him. "That was smart."

Suddenly her fingers uncurl from his coat and she takes a hasty step back, her eyes widening. "Oh God, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry," she apologizes in a rush.

"Don't be," he soothes gently and reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone. "I'll call the police, why don't you sit down on that crate while we wait?" he suggests, glancing worriedly at her pale face.

She rushes closer to him once again, gripping the hand with his phone. "Don't," she pleads.

"We have to call the police, Miss. …" he trails off, realizing that he doesn't know her name.

She clenches her teeth in hesitation, but finally holds out her hand. "I'm Felicity."

He grabs her small hand in his and shakes it lightly. "Oliver."

He expects the all too familiar moment of recognition -the one he experiences all the time with Starling's citizens- to happen at the mention of his first name, but to his utter surprise she doesn't react to it... at all.

"Look, Oliver, I just wanna go home, change out these clothes, possibly burn them, and then take a long, hot shower to wash tonight's events off," she says, trying to keep her voice steady.

"But,..."

"Oliver."

The simple roll of his name off her lips manages to convey more than a thousand words and he's stunned into silence by the effect she has on him.

"I know a guy who works for the SCPD, I'll call him and make sure he knows what happened," she says with a new-found conviction as she turns to walk the few steps to where her purse lies forgotten on the cold floor, right next to her torn black coat.

With a sinking heart Oliver realizes that the thugs had just thrown her purse away, ignoring her phone, money, and whatever else was in there. They'd just wanted _her._

"Felicity," he whispers before he can stop himself.

She turns to him with wide eyes, fresh tears forming in the corners, chest rising quickly with deep breaths, all the false bravado from just a few seconds ago is gone. The purse is held loosely by shaking fingers. She must've come to the same realization as he did.

She lets out a choked sob, one hand shooting up to cover her lips.

With cautious steps he moves towards her, waiting for her silent nod of permission before he steps into her personal space and takes her hands in his. With soft strokes he moves his thumbs over the backs of her hands in slow, soothing circles.

"What can I do?" he asks, feeling utterly helpless with this beautiful woman standing in front of him, desperately trying to clutch to her composure.

She looks up at him with wide eyes. "I don't know," she sobs, her breath hitched. "I don't... I just wanna go home." Her voice is just a broken whisper and it breaks Oliver's heart.

He nods mutely. "Is your car close?"

A frown appears on her forehead. "Uh, no, my friends dropped me off and I was planning on taking a cab home," she answers slowly.

He clenches his teeth in silent disagreement. "Look, Felicity," he starts, "I can call you a cab and wait with you until it gets here." She nods, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Lightly he tugs on her hands to get her full attention again. "Or..." he hesitates, wondering if he's bulldozering over every invisible line with his idea. "I could drive you."

Her eyes widen again and he mentally slaps himself. Of course she doesn't want a stranger to drive her home after she was just attacked by three guys in a dark alleyway.

He opens his mouth to backpedal from his offer to drive her home when she slowly nods her head. "Okay."

"I... uh... you mean..." _God, get it together, Oliver!_ "Was that, uhm, an okay for the taxi or for me to drive you?" he tries again.

To his utter surprise, a small smile forms on her lips, and good God, she's beautiful when she smiles.

"You know, usually I'm the one talking in sentence fragments," she muses.

He lets out a huff, grateful for the moment of lightness. "You don't really seem like the babbling type."

Her timid half smile turns into a full blown grin, and it's so infectious that Oliver feels his own lips tick up into a smile. "Oh, believe me, babbling is my specialty. I'm pretty sure I unknowingly took a Master's class on how to put a foot in my mouth and graduated with honors."

She sobers a little, "And that was the 'okay, you can drive me home'. Of course, only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," he says earnestly and quickly shrugs out of his coat, offering her to slip in it which she does with a grateful smile.

With one last look at the still unconscious thugs lying on the ground, he turns and leaves the alleyway behind, Felicity right next to him.

 

 **⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **ARROW** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She stretches back in the soft leather seats of his probably really expensive German SUV. A soothing warmth engulfs her from all sides, seeping into every cold cell of her body. Thank God for heated seats!

Her eyes drift over to the man next to her. His eyes are glued to the street, even though she sometimes catches him shooting glances over to her. She takes some time to take in his appearance.

He's tall, even with her 4-inch heels he still stood a few inches taller than her. He's dressed in what she assumes to be a tailor-made suit that clings to his well-sculpted body in the most amazing way. He has electric blue eyes and a soft stubble covers his jaw.

They stay quiet for most of the ride, the silence only interrupted by the instructions spoken softly by the navigation system. It gives her time to think.

Tonight was a close call. Too close. If Oliver hadn't come out of nowhere to save her... She shudders at the possibilities and immediately feels his worried gaze on her.

She keeps her eyes locked on a suddenly incredibly interesting spot in her lap. He's definitely something else. His kindness and compassion are almost overwhelming. The deeply worried eyes are enough to make her legs turn into rubber. Add in his insane good looks and she's a complete goner.

She rubs her hands together and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Thank God, that he can't read her thoughts otherwise he'd probably think she's a complete nutcase. Here she is, not even half an hour after being attacked by three street thugs, obsessing over her savior and his ridiculous good looks and overall perfection.

Is there an equivalent to Stockholm Syndrome for her situation?

Yeah, like she said, total nutcase.

Because let's face it, a normal woman wouldn't have gotten into a car with a stranger after what she'd just been through. A normal woman would've called the police and let them deal with everything. But alas, Felicity Smoak is not a normal woman.

"Felicity," his soft voice yanks her out of her thoughts and she whips her head around, eyes flying open.

He looks at her with an indulgent smile. "We're here, I think."

A quick glance out of the window tells her that they are, in fact, standing in front of her house. Right, that was fast. Did she nod off?

"Are you okay?" he questions, probably taking her silence and the fact that she hasn't made any move to leave his car as a sign that she's, in fact, not okay.

She clears her throat. _Get your shit together, Smoak._

"Yeah, yes, I'm good to... oh shit," she hisses when her eyes land on his right hand that is gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles are an angry red, a trickle of blood seeping out from a cut, his fingers look a little swollen.

"Oh my God, are _you_ okay?" she asks, guilt washing over her, as she reaches her hand over to his injured one, ghosting over his swollen skin.

His breath hitches when she touches him and his eyes hold hers for a second before flickering down to his hand, a frown scrunching up his handsome face.

"I didn't even notice," he says after a beat, looking honestly surprised.

He lets go off the steering wheel and flexes his fingers experimentally and winces almost imperceptibly at the movement.

"Okay, that's it," she says resolutely as she yanks open her door. "You're coming inside with me and let me take care of your hand."

His eyebrows hike up and she's pretty sure her face matches the color of her dress as she swallows hard. "I mean, only if you want to. Obviously I can't force you because you're all... big." Her eyes widen. "I didn't mean to imply that you're fat or that you have a big... Even though anything else would be quite disappointing considering your overall... hunkiness." _Oh my God, Felicity, just shut the fuck up._ "Can we pretend that the last 20 seconds didn't happen?"

His mouth has fallen open and he gapes at her for a few seconds before his lips curl into a wide smile. "Well, you've certainly earned that Master's degree."

She presses her lips together, pushing down any more inappropriate comments and instead opting for, "So are you coming or not?"

Well that went _almost_ well. "Inside," she clarifies quickly. "Are you coming inside?"

He grins at her. "If you're sure."

He gives her an out, the opportunity to rethink her request, probably thinking that she's still in shock and making rash decisions. His thoughtfulness almost melts her insides.

"I'm sure," she says and gives him a confident smile.

He nods and with the press of a button kills the engine. "Lead the way."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She holds her breath when she turns the key in the lock, trying to remember the state she left her house in. She's not a particularly messy person, but sometimes things just end up being carelessly thrown on the couch or her kitchen table when she's in a hurry. And she was definitely in a hurry before she left for dinner earlier that night.

 _Please don't let a pair of panties or a bra lie around on the floor_ , she silently prays as she opens the door and flicks on the lights.

A quick glance around tells her she's in the clear. There are a few computer parts strewn over her coffee table but other than that she's good.

She kicks off her heels and reluctantly shrugs out of his coat and deposits it carefully over the back of a chair, instantly missing the calming warmth and just the scent of him that surrounded her for the past 20 minutes.

_Yeah, not creepy at all, Smoak._

She motions for him to follow her into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet until she finds a first aid kit. When she turns around she almost stumbles over her own two feet and her breath catches in her throat. He, too, took off his suit jacket, leaving him in a crisp white shirt, his tie already loosened around his neck while he works on his cufflinks and rolls up the sleeves to his elbows.

Is he trying to kill her with an overload of sexiness?

She must've made a sound because his head shoots up, his eyes seeking out hers with a curious glance, head tilted slightly to the side.

Quickly, she clears her throat and points at the little table and two chairs. "Why don't you sit down."

He does as she says and places his right hand flat on the table waiting for her next move. She pulls up the other chair and opens the first aid kit to find hand sanitizer. She cleans her hands quickly and takes out a few supplies.

Carefully, she dabs an antiseptic wipe over the dried drop of blood. The cut underneath is so small she can barely see it but she still grabs the Neosporin and places a small amount on the wound. Only after securing a completely unnecessary band-aid over his knuckles, does she look up and meet his intense gaze.

She honestly doesn't know why she's so drawn to him. Why, after everything that happened tonight, she still seeks out the company of a man, a stranger no less.

But something about him is just so... familiar. She almost feels like she's seen him before, but that's just a crazy thought because she sure as hell wouldn't forget meeting someone like him. He just has a certain aura around him that makes him seem confident and imposing and at the same time completely trustworthy. Like a natural born leader.

His eyes are boring into hers, a small line has formed between his eyebrows and he looks at her like... like he's trying to figure her out. Like she's a mystery that he can't quite solve yet.

She's sure she blushes when she finally tears her eyes from his and gets up from her seat, busying herself with putting the first aid kit away.

"So," he starts slowly, "You're into computers?"

Yeah, he doesn't get points for the most innovative conversation starter, but he _does_ sound genuinely interested.

"Always have been. I built my first computer when I was six," she shrugs and retrieves an ice pack from the freezer before offering it to him wrapped in a towel.

He accepts it with a smile and places it over his swollen fingers. "That's not exactly what most six-year-olds would do. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out how to get my smartphone to do what I want and I'm 29," he muses.

She gasps dramatically and shakes her head in mock exasperation. "Men... what would you do without us?"

He grins at her. "We'd be utterly lost and the world would be falling apart."

She huffs out a laugh. "Never doubt it," she says with a wink. "So what are you into?" She groans and has a sudden urge to facepalm herself. "I didn't mean that in a kinky way, I swear."

Oliver just chuckles quietly. "I'm _into_ sports. Football, specifically."

"Huh, I actually know nothing about football. My friend Barry is really into it and basically worships one of the Starling City players and tries to drag me to the home games, but so far he hasn't succeeded."

There's some hesitation in his smile that she doesn't quite know what to do with. "You should go one of these days. It's fun. The tailgating, the atmosphere in the stadium, an abundance of drinks and junk food."

She tilts her head a little to the side. "That actually does sound like fun." She looks at his hands that still rest idly on the table when she realizes she hasn't offered him a drink.

"Oh wow, how incredibly rude of me. Would you like something to drink? I'm pretty sure I only have coffee and water, but..." she shrugs apologetically.

He glances at his watch and frowns. "Actually, it's getting kinda late and I have someone waiting for me at home."

Oh.

 _Oh._ Okay, maybe she'd been reading the situation wrong. She really felt like he was sending her clear signals that would suggest he was interested, too.

 _Or maybe he was just being nice_ , she chastises herself. _God, just get a grip. He's not interested._

He stands and deposits the ice pack on the table. "Thank you for the outstanding medical treatment," he says with a lopsided grin. And dear God can he please stop looking at her like that if he's not interested?!

"Sure," she she replies with a tight smile. "It was the least I could."

They stop in front of her door and he turns around suddenly, the abrupt turn takes her by surprise and she slams into him.

He catches her by the waist before anything worse happens, holding her close to his body.

Wow, he's tall. Like, really tall, especially now that she's not in her heels anymore.

She swallows hard and looks up at him, baffled by the tingling in her stomach when she realizes just how close she's standing to him.

"Sorry," he breathes, and she kind of hopes that his breathlessness is a sign that he's not quite as unaffected as he appears to be. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finds his voice again. "I know this is probably highly inappropriate, considering what happened to you tonight," he begins and his eyes turn a darker shade of blue at the mention of her attack earlier. "But I really wanna see you again... under different circumstances. Happier circumstances."

Her stomach does a somersault. Did he just kind of ask her out?

But then a thought creeps into her head.

"I thought someone was waiting for you at home," she questions, biting her bottom lip.

His hands fall from her sides and he takes a step back. _And that's that_ , she thinks, vexed. But then again, it's better to stop now before she ends up being the other woman again. Once is already one time too many.

Instead of turning towards the door and hightailing it out of her house, he pulls out his phone from his suit jacket that had been resting over his arm. He lets out a frustrated grumble while he swipes over the screen a few times.

And then a triumphant smile appears on his lips when he finds what he was looking for and holds up the screen in front of her.

From the screen, a little boy clad in a way too big football jersey that reaches the ground beams back at her with a notable gap in his teeth.

"That's Connor, my son," Oliver explains, the note of pride doesn't go unnoticed by Felicity.

"He's adorable," she replies earnestly. But that really doesn't change anything, probably makes it worse, considering he has a _family_ waiting for him at home.

Maybe he read the uncertainty in her eyes, because a second later he gently takes her hand in his and searches her eyes. "He's the one waiting for me at home. Only him." He tilts his head in contemplation. "Well, and technically my sister's also there because she's babysitting tonight, but otherwise it's just me."

Oh.

She can see the honesty practically seeping out of his intense gaze and can't suppress a little shudder. Sooo, he is interested after all?

He clears his throat, breaking the silence, and he looks... sheepish? "Can I... uh, give you my number? And you know, if you feel like getting a coffee or something, you just give me a call?"

Damn, he's already sexy when he's all imposing and confident, but holy hell, this shy version with his hands stuffed in his pants' pockets, eyes wide and hopeful, is downright gorgeous. How in the world is she supposed to say no to anything he asks?

She appreciates what he's doing: much like in the car earlier, he's giving her an out. He doesn't even ask for her number in return. Right now, she holds all the power. She can decide whether to continue this or pull the plug.

She's actually been through something similar like tonight just a few months ago when some street kid decided to threaten her with a knife until she gave him her purse. The joke was on him though because he didn't get rid of her phone and she tracked him from an internet café and gave Barry the coordinates so his colleagues could go and arrest him.

After that particular incident she started attending self-defense classes on a more or less regular basis. But even with some basic training she knows that she couldn't have held her own tonight. Not against three guys.

When they had wolf-whistled from across the street while she was waiting for a taxi to pass by she had hoped they would leave it at that. But they had crossed the street, coming closer, so she'd started walking away. Logically, she now knows that she should've gone back to the restaurant and let them call a taxi for her, but in that moment she had only thought about getting away. Turns out, that was her first mistake.

The guys had followed her, quickly eating up the distance between them until one of the guys had slapped her ass roughly. She'd spun around, her trusty pepper spray at the ready. Before she could even think about using it, one guy had already ripped the little container from her grip and another one had closed his large hand over her mouth. Why hadn't she thought of screaming earlier when she still had a chance?

They had dragged her into the alley. She only realized that they had ripped her coat off of her when the cold November air hit her skin. She'd tried to ignore their comments about how they liked it when chicks fought back, and how much fun they would have. Silently praying that someone, anyone, would come and help her.

That's when Oliver had appeared out of nowhere. Never in her life had she been so grateful to see an incredible good-looking stranger in her life.

Only after he'd knocked the two thugs out and send the other one running to the hills, had the realization sunk in of what just happened and worse, what could've happened.

Being in Oliver's arms and hearing his soft words of comfort had grounded and soothed her more than she would've ever thought possible, considering they were coming from a complete stranger after _other_ strangers had just assaulted her. But there was just something about him.

"Felicity?" his low voice breaks her out of her thoughts and her head snaps up.

"Huh?"

He smiles hesitantly. "Look if it's too much so soon after, I understand."

"No," she's quick to interject. Maybe a little too quick. "I mean, I'd like that. Seeing you again," she clarifies with a reassuring smile.

He quickly writes down his number on a scrap of paper he found in his pocket and hands it to her. "Good night," Felicity," he say in an impossibly soft voice.

"Good night," she replies. "And Oliver? Thank you."

 

 **⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **ARROW** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"Green 42, Green 42, Hut-Hut," Oliver yells through his mouth piece, sweat and rain dropping from his helmet onto the wet grass below him.

God, he hates playing in the rain.

He catches the snap from the center on the second Hut and retreats a few steps, trying to get a read on the defense. It's a tight game, the defensive men are taking all his passing options out of play.

He takes one more step backwards when he sees movement from the corner of his eye. But it's already too late. One of the defensive ends has found a way around his guards and crashes his padded shoulder into Oliver's chest. They both hit the ground.

"Run it again," Coach Wilson yells from the sideline of the training field.

Oliver groans, but lets his teammate pull him up. Right now, he wants to be anywhere but here, being repeatedly put on the mats by the defense because his guards can't seem to do their fucking jobs today.

He zeroes in on his left guard who just let the defensive end through. "Harper, what the hell do you think you're doing today? Start doing your job and don't let Williams get through."

"Man, you know that I usually play as a running back. I'm only filling in for Diggle," the younger man grumbles.

Oliver grabs his jersey and stops him from walking away. "You should be happy you get to play at all, rookie." He pushes him away and yells instructions at his other teammates while they line up the play again.

"Green 42, Green 42, Hut-Hut." The snap comes right at him, all he has to do is catch it like he has done thousands of times. But instead, the ball hits his right index finger in a weird way and an angry flash of pain runs through his body. It distracts him enough that the ball bounces off his fingers and topples to the wet ground. Shit!

A shrill whistling interrupts the messed up play.

"What the fuck is this, Queen? You've been distracted the whole night, but fumbling the fucking snap? Get off the field. Jones, you're in," his coach bellows.

Oliver lets his eyes fall shut for a moment and he slowly trots off the field opening the clasp of the chinstrap of his helmet on his way to the sideline.

His coach grabs him by the shoulder pads. "Wanna tell me where your head is at tonight, kid? You're supposed to be these guys' role model on how to put 120 per cent into every single practice and here you are phoning it in."

Oliver suppresses the urge to role his eyes. "Sorry, coach, not my day."

It's not untrue though. His head has been somewhere else, or rather with _someone_ else. Ever since leaving her house last night, he can't seem to get Felicity out of his head.

He wonders what she's doing. How she's holding up. Did she get any sleep last night or was she up, tossing and turning? Did she call her friend in the police department? What did she do after he left last night? Was she thinking about him? About calling him?

"Not my day, my ass. What's wrong with your right hand," his coach asks bluntly. "What? You didn't think I'd notice?"

He reluctantly stretches out his right hand to let his coach have a look. The swelling isn't quite as bad as last night, but his index and middle finger haven taken on various shades of blue and purple.

His coach grits his teeth together. "Getting into fights again? I thought we were well past your childish antics?"

It's Oliver's turn to clench his jaw. "It wasn't like that."

"I don't care. You're off the roster for the game on Sunday. Weight room for the rest of the week. I don't wanna see you anywhere near a football until practice on Monday. Ten thousand dollar fine to be paid to a charity of your choosing. And get your hand looked at by the Doc," he orders and turns around to observe the rest of his players.

Oliver is left to stare at him. Off the roster? No training with the team? Paying a fine?

"Coach."

Coach Wilson whips around, pressing his clipboard into Oliver's chest. "I told you before the draft all those years ago that if you ever get back to your fucked up adolescent shit behavior, you'd be faced with consequences. So, consider this as just that," he growls low enough so no other player can hear him. "If you ever get into a fight again, I'll kick you off the team for good. Now get out of my sight."

Well isn't this fucking great? Once again something from his past is thrown in his face. Will he ever be seen as the man he is now without people constantly reminding him of his past shortcomings?

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	2. Pass Interference

Definition: **_pass interference_** is a foul that occurs when a player interferes with an eligible receiver's ability to make a fair attempt to catch a forward pass. Pass interference may include tripping, pushing, pulling, or cutting in front of the receiver, covering the receiver's face, or pulling on the receiver's hands or arms. (Source: Wikipedia)

* * *

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

A bead of sweat drops from Oliver's nose as he moves back into a squat, the weight on his shoulders pulling him down. With gritted teeth he locks his knees and pushes himself up, back into a straight position.

"Not skipping leg day, that's the spirit," sounds the voice of his best friend from somewhere behind him.

Without turning around, he answers, "Well, maybe you should take me as a good example then. I swear, Connor has more muscles in his legs than you, buddy."

Two more reps and he lets the metal bar of the weight lock into the rungs on the side of the rack. He steps out from below and swiftly catches the towel Tommy is throwing in his direction.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"What? Not happy to see me? I'm hurt, Oliver," Tommy replies teasingly, putting his hand over his heart in mock hurt. "But seriously, the better question is what are _you_ doing here while the rest of the team is outside on the football field?"

Oliver sighs and sits down on the nearest bench, taking a long swig from his water bottle. "The fact you're down here makes me think you already know."

His best friend sits down beside him. "I just know that Coach benched you for the rest of the week, including the game. Wanna tell me what happened?"

He quickly runs a hand through his short hair in frustration. "I got into a fight, injured my hand, Coach found out and benched me. End of story."

Just by Tommy's voice he can tell that he's frowning at his flippant answer. "Since when are you getting into fights again? And since when do you do it without me there to back you up?"

Oliver snorts at that. "Because you're such a reliable back up when it comes to fighting. Need I remind you of the Yale debacle of '05?"

"That's...", he stops himself and shakes his head. "Fine, I'm not good at the whole fighting thing. But you're deflecting. What happened?"

Before he can answer, Tommy's phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call, leaving Oliver to think about his answer. He knows that if he told Tommy about what happened, he'd be all over him with questions about Felicity and urge him to go public with the incident to get some good PR. But that's something he simply can't do, not when it means dragging Felicity into all of this.

"Well, shit," Tommy interrupts his thoughts. "You better hop into the shower and get ready to meet the big boss."

"What?"

"Yup, my dad, well rather my dad's assistant, just informed me that we're expected in the conference room in twenty minutes for a sit down with Coach and the team's PR people to discuss how we'll explain you not playing on Sunday."

"Fan-fucking-tasting," Oliver mutters.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Tommy's sitting to Oliver's left, to his right is Sara Lance, his publicist. On the opposite side of the table are Coach Wilson, the team doc Dr. Wells and a woman he's never met before, probably a publicist for the team. Malcolm Merlyn stands at the head of the table, his arms crossed in front of his chest, an annoyed expression etched into his face.

"Would someone mind telling me why the hell our highest paid player who also happens to be our starting quarterback and team captain is listed as questionable right now and apparently won't be playing on Sunday?"

Coach Wilson is the first to speak up, "Queen came to practice yesterday with a hand injury that was clearly sustained in a physical altercation. He was dropping balls left and right, so I took him out of practice and punished him accordingly."

Oliver clenches his jaw, holding back the decidedly rude comeback that lies on the tip of his tongue.

Malcolm narrows his eyes and moves his gaze over to Dr. Wells. "Have you had a chance to look at Mr. Queen's hand, Doc?"

Wells clears his throat before speaking, clearly intimidated by having to talk in front of the team owner. "Yes, Sir. Uh, I looked at it last night. Some of his knuckles are bruised and he presents with some swelling and discoloration, but it's nothing a couple of days rest and ice won't fix."

"Very well, then he's able to play on Sunday?"

The doctors response gets drowned out by Coach Wilson's immediate outburst. "The hell he will. Kid broke the rules. He's not playing."

Malcolm glares at him before turning to Oliver. "What happened?"

Oliver sighs and scratches his beard nervously. "I got into a fight."

"Why?" Tommy chimes in, that traitorous bastard.

"Because," Oliver replies through gritted teeth.

Coach Wilson throws up his hands in anger. "Look at the smug bastard, he's not even sorry. I should bench him for more than one game, maybe that would teach him a lesson"

"Oliver," Malcolm starts, his voice cold and calculated. "If we're back to your childish college behavior, there _will_ be bigger repercussions. I don't care how good of an athlete you are or that you're basically an honorary member of my family. I won't allow _anyone_ to tarnish and endanger the reputation of my team and my family name."

Oliver's head shoots up and he looks at the older man in shock.

"If there are no viable witnesses to the incident, we can just spin the story and say he sustained the injury during last night's practice," the young woman from across the table chimes in. "And the fact that he's not playing is just a precaution to give him time to fully heal and make sure he can play the rest of the season."

Next to him, he can see Sara nod her head. "The fine in form of a donation to a charity will either be made anonymously now or in his name in a few weeks so that no one automatically links the two events together. And Oliver will apologize to the team and the coaches for his behavior."

What the hell?

"What? That's it?" Oliver scoffs. "I apologize and we just sweep it under the rug?"

"Oliver," Sara warns softly.

"No, Sara, I won't sit here and let all of you judge me for something you think I did. I know that I've done some shit in the past, but that's where it is. In the past. You all know how much I've changed in the past ten years and I won't let you diminish who I am _now_. And I sure as hell won't apologize to the team or the coaches for what I did. Hell, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Sometime during his speech he'd stood up from his seat, fixing all of them with a deadly glare.

Coach Wilson chuckles humorlessly and flicks his hand dismissively. "Like I said, he's not even sorry."

"For saving a young woman from being mugged and raped by three guys twice her size?" Oliver explodes. "No, I'm _not_!"

The rooms is shocked into silence by his outburst. His chest is heaving with deep, angry breaths.

"Is that what happened?" Tommy is the first to break the silence. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because it shouldn't matter. You of all people should trust that I wouldn't jeopardize my career and my reputation, everything I worked so fucking hard for to achieve, for something as stupid as getting into a fight for no reason. You should _all_ know that I'm not that naive young idiot anymore."

"So there are witnesses? The woman you saved? She can corroborate the story?" The team publicist speaks up, all business. "This is good, we don't have to spin anything, just tell the truth. You'll be a hero."

His mouth falls open at her blunt words. "I won't give you her name."

"Why not? This is great press."

"Why _not_?" He asks incredulously. "Because she went through absolute hell two days ago and I won't let you drag her into this just so we can get a good news line."

He's had enough of this bullshit.

Resolutely, he pushes back his chair and moves around the table. "Coach, I accept your punishment and will train in the weight room for the rest of the week, as well as pay the fine and not play on Sunday. Sara, prepare a statement for the media, telling them I suffered a small injury and that I won't play because of it. And you," he turns toward the other publicist, pointing his index finger at her. "If I read even a single word that differs from the official story, I will sue the crap out of you and the rest of this football team. Do you understand?"

She nods timidly, swallowing hard, but Oliver can't find it in him to feel sorry. "Good day, ladies, gentlemen," he says and leaves the room.

He doesn't stop walking until he reaches his car, anger still surging through his veins when he unlocks the door.

Damnit! Storming out of a meeting with the team owner and the head coach probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

He grips the steering wheel a little harder than necessary as he pulls out of his parking space, ignoring the pain flaring from his right hand. The shrill ring of his phone sounds through his car, without looking at the monitor on his dash he presses the accept button on the steering wheel, knowing it'll be Tommy, trying to calm him down.

"Tommy," he sighs. "I appreciate the thought, but I really don't wanna talk about this right now. I'll call you tonight."

He's about to hang up when he hears a timid voice he's been waiting to hear for the past forty-something hours, but who's counting? "Uh, it's actually Felicity."

He slams on the brakes, the seat belt digging into his chest as the car comes to a stop. And yeah, wow, he's grateful that he was still in the parking lot, otherwise he would've probably caused a major accident.

"Felicity?" he chokes out.

"Yeah," she answers cautiously. "From the other night?"

"Yes, of course. I didn't forget you, I mean, how could I? I just... I wasn't expecting your call," he rambles. _Smooth, Oliver._

"I can call back later if now is a bad time," she offers hesitantly.

"No! I mean, it's okay. Now is good. Great, even. I had a pretty shitty day so far and hearing your voice is the best thing that has happened all day." _Oh, holy mother of... what the heck are you doing, Queen?_

He holds his breath, waiting for the telltale beep that tells him she hung up after he went creepy psycho on her just now, but it doesn't come.

Instead, a sharp intake of breath resonates through the speakers. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or kinda creeped out," she finally says with a laugh.

His eyes fall shut for a second. "I'm pretty sure you're not the only one who took that master's class."

"Evidently not," she muses.

And just like that any tension between them is broken. "So what was so shitty about today?"

"Ugh, everything? I'm just happy that I'm on my way home to spend some time with Connor," he replies earnestly.

"Mhh, I'm sorry you had a shitty day. How's your hand?"

Oliver smiles. "Much better, undoubtedly because of your expert medical treatment."

"Hey, don't mock," she warns teasingly.

"Never," he swears, his smile widening. "So what have you been up to in the past two days?"

His question is met by a sudden silence. "Felicity?" he asks, alarmed.

"I... uh, I tracked down James Crawford, Felix Romero and Karl Hauser," she mutters.

A frown appears on Oliver's forehead, racking his brain to try and remember if he's ever heard those names before.

"Who are those guys?" he asks when he comes up empty.

"The ones from the alley."

He sucks in a sharp breath. _Shit_.

"You went after them? Felicity, do you know how dangerous-"

She cuts him off, "Yes, I know that it would be stupid to go looking for them _in person_. That's why I tracked them _virtually_."

What?

"Explain that sentence, please." Yeah, now he's really confused.

She sighs deeply before explaining, "Remember how I said I'm into computers?" She doesn't let him answer and just continues, "I have a master's degree in Cyber Security and Computer Sciences, so I know my way around the internet. I also know how to access traffic cam footage and how to run pictures through a facial recognition software. All of which I did, et voilà, the cops got an anonymous tip for their location and since they all had outstanding warrants for past crimes they are now the newest inhabitants of Iron Heights Penitentiary for the next ten to fifteen years. Well, that and I took the liberty of donating all of the money I could find in their bank accounts to charities that support abuse victims."

It takes Oliver a few seconds to comprehend her rushed words, but when he finally does his mouth falls open and he lets out a disbelieving chuckle. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

"Who says you're on my good side?" she teases and once again she manages to bring the levity back.

God, this woman is extraordinary.

"Well, you did call me back," he plays along.

"Huh, true. Maybe you are on my good side after all."

"Pheew," he breathes out an exaggerated sigh of relief and is immediately rewarded with a hearty laugh from the other end of the line that makes his heart beat a little quicker in his chest.

Then his heart suddenly plummets when he hears a male voice in the background calling Felicity's name. He chances a quick glance at his watch and realizes it's almost eight. Surely she's at home by now, with... a friend? A boyfriend, even? He never actually asked her if she was seeing someone. Maybe she was just being nice when she took his number or feeling pressured to do so after he saved her? But then why would she be calling him?

"Earth to Oliver," she pulls him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"I said I gotta go. But before I do that, I wanted to ask you if... uh... you know, if that offer for 'coffee or something' still stands?"

At this point he's pretty sure that his brain simply can't keep up when it comes to this woman. So now she's asking if he really asked her out? But what about the guy in the background?

"Or not," she says with a definite hint of sadness when he doesn't answer. "Right, you were probably just being nice when you offered that and wanted to make me feel better after what happened. I'm sorry I called and-"

"No," he interjects when he finally finds his voice again. "I mean, I was being nice, but not just because of what happened."

"What do you mean by that?"

He takes a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ "I was also at Table Salt that night, having dinner with friends. And I saw you standing at the bar and there was just _something_ about you. During the entire dinner I tried working up the nerve to just get up and talk to you, but before I could, you left. I left a few minutes later, hoping that maybe I would catch you on the street and when I didn't, I took that as a sign that it just wasn't meant to be." He shakes his head. "But then I found you in that alley."

He runs a hand through his hair, nervously scratching the back of his head. "In the restaurant and later at your house I thought you were... _intriguing_ and just different than any other woman I've ever met. I _still_ think that. And I'd really like to get to know you better. So yes, if after my rant you're still interested, I'd love to spend some time with you."

He holds his breath as he waits for her answer. In the quiet of his car he can actually hear her swallow and let out uneven breaths.

After a minute, her silence gets too much. "Felicity?" he asks, his heart beating furiously in his chest. "Please say something."

"Wow, that was..." she trails off, probably not a good sign. "Yes."

"Yes?" he questions, a giddy smile forming on his lips.

"Yes," she says with more conviction and he finally releases the breath he's been holding.

"Good. Good. That's..."

"Good?" she teases and he chuckles.

"Very good, even. Are you free on Saturday?"

"I actually gotta work on Saturday," she replies apologetically.

He frowns. "They make you work on the weekend? Where the hell do you work?"

Her responding laugh is like music to his ears. "We have a project deadline coming up in a few weeks, so, right now, it's all hands on deck, even on the weekend. But if it makes you feel better, we're getting a hefty bonus for all the overtime we're pulling."

"That makes me feel marginally better," he muses. "When do you get off work?"

"Probably around 5."

"Great, I'll pick you up at your place at, let's say, 6.30?"

"Uhh, yeah, okay, that sounds good. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too," he says earnestly, a plan already forming in his head. "See you then, Felicity."

"Bye, Oliver."

He ends the call and lets his head slump back against the head rest, his eyes falling shut. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

So, yeah, she totally _isn't_ freaking out right now. Not _at all_!

Okay, fine, she's totally freaking out.

But in her defense, this has been one pretty crazy week and it feels like everything is leading to this kind of crescendo tonight. Which is crazy and weird and a bit stupid, considering she was attacked just a few days ago. But nope, all her brain can currently obsess about is her rapidly approaching... _time_ with Oliver.

She bites her bottom lip. She doesn't even know what _this_ will be. Not once during their phone conversation on Thursday did he call it a date. To be fair, she hadn't called it that either, rather sticking with his words and calling it 'coffee or something'. But that was a whole lot closer to 'date' than 'spending time with you', right?

 _Nope, actually_ , the logical part of her brain chimes in helpfully, _it's just two different ways of avoiding calling it a date or a non-date._

Date or non-date, she has no idea what to wear.

It's 6.15, Oliver's supposed to be here in 15 minutes, and yet, she's standing in her underwear in front of her closet, not having the slightest clue on what she should wear. That's not entirely true though, because Oliver actually gave her a clue.

 **Dress casually. See you later! O.,** he had texted her just a few hours ago.

But what's casual? A dress? Jeans? Her beloved UGG boots?

She lets out a frustrated groan, plops down on her bed and swipes over her phone.

"Caitlin, I don't know what to wear," she whines even before her friend can say anything.

"Hello to you, too, Lis," Caitlin replies disapprovingly. "I'm actually kinda in the middle of something. Can you call Iris?"

"What? No, I called you. Iris doesn't know about Oliver yet and I have," she glances at the alarm clock on her night stand and curses. "Shit, 11 minutes before he picks me up and I'm pretty sure my underwear doesn't constitute as a casual look."

"Well with the right accessories-"

"Caitlin!" she quickly interrupts her friend's joke.

"Right. Casual? Black jeans, your cute white blouse, leather jacket and whatever shoes you want. I gotta go," she rushes out and hangs up, leaving Felicity to stare dumbfoundedly at her phone. What the heck was that about?

Just then, her phone chimes in her hand, giving her the ten minute warning she set earlier. With a growl she quickly makes her way over to the closet and pulls out the suggested clothes, plus a pair of red sneakers. Luckily she'd already done her make up, so she's ready within just a few minutes, leaving her with just over five minutes to spare. Not bad, considering she was mid freak-out not too long ago.

She forces herself to sit down on the couch while she waits, her heart pounding in her chest. She can't even remember the last time she was this excited before a... before hanging out with someone. Yeah, because that sounds _so_ much better.

At exactly 6.30 (she checks the time on her phone) there's a knock on her door and her heart jumps just a little bit in anticipation when she opens the door.

And boy, that was definitely warranted. He looks incredibly handsome in dark pants, a gray Henley and a light brown jacket. She's pretty sure human beings are _not_ supposed to look so heavenly!

A lopsided smile forms on his lips when she finally manages to tear her eyes away from his body. "Hi," he breathes out. And yup, that's it, she's done.

"Hi," she manages to croak out. _Nice, Smoak._

"You look beautiful," he says, a sparkle in his eyes, and holds out his arm. "Shall we?"

Why can't she be that freaking calm and smooth?

She quickly grabs her keys and purse and links her arm with his, pulling the door closed shut. "We shall."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

The first few minutes of the car ride are spent exchanging details about their day. Apparently, he spent time with his son and went to the gym. Of course, he did. Because you're not born looking like a freaking Greek god.

Somehow she manages to start a five minute rant about one of her co-workers who totally messed with her designs today and would pay dearly for crossing her path.

He doesn't cut her off, merely giving her a lazy smile and says, "It's kind of adorable how you're plotting the demise of your colleague", when she tries to apologize for going on a tangent.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asks, vaguely registering that they are heading away from the city, already past the suburbs. She can make out wide fields and groups of trees lining the side of the road now, everything dipped into darkness.

"We're going to watch a movie," he replies noncommittally.

She frowns. Watching a movie sounds a helluva lot like a date. "I didn't know there were any theaters in this direction," she presses.

A grin spreads on his face. "There's at least one." He slows the car and turns onto a dirt road leading through a little forest. "And we're almost there."

Her frown deepens as she eyes the trunks of trees that are mostly swallowed by the dark. Why is she so calm? Here she is, sitting next to someone who's basically a stranger and who's driving her through a dark forest, miles away from any town. And yet, she feels... safe with him.

They leave the forest and drive into what looks like an open field, he quickly turns off the headlights before she can make out any details, and drives for another few seconds before pulling a U turn and stopping the car.

He turns to her and grins. "We're here."

She looks around, but without the lights from the car, their surroundings are dipped into complete darkness. She swallows. "Uh, and where is _here_ exactly? I'm pretty sure we have vastly different definitions of 'watching a movie'," she quips.

His grin widens and he looks... giddy.

He quickly gets out of the car and opens her door. "You coming?"

She takes his offered hand and hops down from the car. "What are we doing here?" she asks, but dutifully follows him to the back of the car, or rather pickup truck as her brain just now registers as her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.

He lets go of her hand and she can hear the rustling of a cover being shoved away. He then opens the hatchback and grabs her hand again, the other one producing a flashlight out of nowhere and turning it on.

The bright light blinds her for a moment, but the flare of irritation is quickly forgotten when he shines the light on the bed of the truck. She's greeted by a huge stack of pillows and blankets and a couple of cooler boxes in the far corner.

"What the...?"

"Can you hold this for a sec while I get everything ready?" he asks and doesn't wait for an answer, just shoves the flashlight into her hand and hops onto the truck bed, quickly spreading the pillows and blankets on the floor and against the driver cabin.

When he's done, he inspects his work for a second before nodding approvingly and turning towards her. He crouches down and holds out both of his hands for her.

All she can do is shake her head in silent wonder, still trying to figure out what he's planning as she lays her hands into his, a spark of electricity running through her body at the contact. He pulls her up like she doesn't weigh more than a feather, and yeah, his time at the gym is totally paying off.

He motions for her to sit down and she follows his instructions with another shake of her head, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable in a sea of pillows and warm blankets, stretching out her legs, while he rummages through one of the boxes, producing two glasses and a bottle of wine. He makes quick work of pouring them each a glass and moves on to the next box, handing her a brown paper bag.

Curiously, she shines the light over the bag and nearly drops it. It's from her favorite fast food place, Big Belly Burger, it smells absolutely delicious and it's still freaking warm. She feels him plop down beside her, his own bag of triple B goodness in his lap.

"Ready to watch a movie?" he asks, his face only illuminated by the little flashlight in her hands.

"How...? What...? I don't..."

He's actually managed to render Felicity Smoak speechless.

He huffs out a laugh and pulls out his phone, typing a quick text to someone before stowing it away again.

"I wasn't sure which movie to pick, because you know, I don't really know you. So, I wasn't sure if you liked rom-coms, or horror movies or whatever, but then I remembered seeing a film poster in your house the other day, and I figured if you put up a poster of it you gotta like the movie, right? So, tonight, we're watching Iron Man", he supplies quickly, his tone indicating that he's caught somewhere between being nervous and excited.

Her mouth has fallen open and she stares at him in wonder and confusion. How are they supposed to watch a movie out here?

Her question is answered just a few seconds later when a giant screen lights up in front of them. And then it suddenly clicks. They're in a drive in theater, one much like she used to go to back in Vegas.

"I didn't even know there was one of these around Starling," she says in amazement, as the opening scene starts.

"Well," he winks at her. "I know a guy who knows a guy who knows the old owner of this place. Now, enjoy."

They spend a third of the movie in relative silence, eating their burgers and fries, until Oliver hands her a bowl of popcorn for dessert, which by the way, is also warm. How the hell did he mange to do that?

Once Tony Stark has returned safely to L.A. she turns around to face Oliver. "I must say, I'm impressed."

"Yeah?" he asks with a lazy smile tracing his lips. "So you're enjoying yourself?"

"Definitely. Can't say I've ever done something like this before."

"So, good first date then?"

She tilts her head at the question, taking in his face, illuminated by the flickering lights of the screen. Despite his nonchalant smile, he looks nervous and uncertain. At least she isn't the only one who's unsure how to categorize this.

"Is it?" she questions gently. "A date, I mean?"

His eyes widen and he's scrambling for words, and yeah, wow, that's kind of adorable. "I... yeah... I mean with the implication of a movie and..." He trails off and briefly lets his eyes slide shut. "I thought... I mean, if you want it to be. A date. Otherwise, we can just call it... uh, hanging out?"

She bites the tip of her tongue, fighting the full blown grin that is threatening to spread out on her lips, and her hand finds his, threading their fingers together. "It's a date."

His smile is absolutely radiant and infectious and for a few long seconds they just sit there on the back of his truck in a deserted field somewhere outside of Starling, smiling at each other like idiots.

Ignoring the movie, they fall into an easy conversation about where they grew up and Felicity tells him about her time in Vegas, making it out of there by getting accepted into MIT and finally taking a job in Starling City five years ago.

"And for a little over a year I've been the head of the IT department at MG," she finishes proudly.

And she really is proud of that fact, being the youngest department head in the history of the company at just 23, was and still is an accomplishment that she worked hard for and that she's immensely proud of.

"Wait, MG? As in Merlyn Global?"

She nods happily, but the flicker of... something that runs across his face doesn't escape her notice. "But I'm thinking about applying for a position at Queen Consolidated, there are rumors coming down the grapevine that the current head of Applied Sciences is planning on retiring by the end of next year, and that's something I'm interested in. But, I don't know, maybe it's too big a step. So. yeah, we'll see what happens."

His only response is a mute nod, and even though his behavior seems a bit off, she decides to ignore it for now, giving him the chance to talk about whatever is bothering him when he's ready.

"So you're originally from Starling?" she asks, and he takes the out with a small smile.

"Born and bred. Even though I bounced around the country for a bit after high school, getting kicked out of a few colleges before my parents had enough and got me into Starling City University," he replies, dipping his head sheepishly. Felicity gives his hand a light squeeze, encouraging him to go on.

"I didn't really take it seriously for the first year, skipping classes left and right, getting into trouble with my friends. I was a mess. And then one day, a girl, that I couldn't even remember ever meeting before, shows up at my apartment, claiming that she's pregnant with my child," he smiles wistfully. "It took me some time fathom the idea of becoming a father especially under those circumstances, but when I finally did, I realized that I had to change, _drastically_. And I did. I dialed down the partying, chose to avoid certain "friends", got my apartment baby-proofed, read every book out there on becoming a parent, but of course I was still utterly unprepared when Connor came into this world." He lets out a chuckle.

"With the help of my family and friends I managed to juggle being a father and finishing my Bachelor's degree. I don't know what I would've done without their unconditional and unwavering support."

Felicity smiles brightly at him, a little surprised by how easily he's opening up about his troubled past. But she's grateful that he's trusting her with that knowledge about him. By the way he talks and how his facial expressions change ever so slightly while he speaks she assumes that this is something that is still weighing heavily on him. She really can't blame him. From her own experience she knows that things from the past tend to come back around to haunt you at some point.

"But you never got back together with Connor's mother?" she vocalizes the question that is burning on the tip of her tongue.

"No, she moved into my apartment after she broke the news to me and we came to an agreement. I paid for everything concerning Connor and she lived in her own room in my apartment, never having to worry about anything. We wanted him to grow up with both of his parents around, even if we weren't together."

She narrows her eyes a bit as she notices something. "That's a slightly troubling use of past tense."

He scratches the back of his head nervously. "Uh, she died in an accident 4 years ago."

"Oh God, I'm sorry."

He nods his head sadly. "Despite whatever obstacles we faced in our pretty unorthodox relationship and whatever differences we had over the years, I never wanted my son to grow up without his mother."

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching as Iron Man takes flight for the first time, before a buzzing sensation comes from Oliver's pant pocket and he scrambles to retrieve his phone.

"Speak of the devil. Sorry, I know this is incredibly rude, but I always keep the phone on in case of an emergency," he says apologetically.

A photo of Connor flashes across the screen and she smiles at Oliver, waving her hand at the phone. "Don't worry. Go ahead."

"Hey Con, what's up?" he asks and immediately frowns. "Have you told Aunt Thea?" Pause. "Okay, can you put her on?"

He shoots her another apologetic smile. "Hey Thea, what's happening?" ... "Okay, did you take his temperature? Does he have any other symptoms?" He lets out a lengthy sigh. "Maybe he just caught some kind of bug, he was fine earlier. But yeah, I'm on my way."

He hangs up and turns to Felicity. "I am _so_ sorry, but I'll have to cut this short. Connor is coming down with something and he asked me to come home. I don't-"

She takes his free hand into both of hers. "Hey, it's fine. Family comes first, I understand that."

"God, you're amazing," he breathes out and by the sudden tinge on his cheeks she figures he didn't mean to say that out loud.

Instead of commenting on it, she just tugs on his hand and moves towards her shoes. They make quick work of cleaning up, and somewhere along the way, Oliver calls whoever is operating the projector, the field plunges into darkness once again when the film stops playing.

They chat a little more on the ride back to her house and she simply can't suppress a happy smile and the feeling of a million butterflies going crazy in her stomach when he grabs her hand, resting their intertwined fingers on her thigh, while running lazy circles with his thumb over her skin.

He walks her to her door, hands gravitating toward each other again. When they stop in front of her door she fidgets with the keys in her free hand in nervous anticipation of what's to come... or not to come.

Usually, she's not one to move this fast when it comes to men and dating and all that. Hell, her only serious boyfriend in college had to wait three dates before she let him kiss her, trying to discern if he was being serious about dating her and wanting to get to know him before she let her heart get too invested. Even though she'd been oh so cautious then, he'd still gone and shattered her heart into a million pieces.

So why is she standing on her porch now, after a _first_ date with a guy she barely knows, actually _longing_ for him to kiss her?

His gaze flickers from her eyes to her mouth and she just knows that he's thinking about it, too. His eyes fall shut and when he opens them, they dart to the ceiling and then back to her eyes.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry, the night had to end so abruptly. I really wanted to spend more time with you."

She smiles. "There's always another time."

He huffs out a low laugh. "Yeah, would I seem a bit too eager and desperate if I ask you if you have plans for tomorrow night?"

She bites her lip and pretends to contemplate his question. "Mhh," she hums. "I would say that sounds pretty good, but..."

His eyebrows scrunch up into a frown. "But what?" There's a hint of uncertainty in his voice that she finds utterly endearing.

"But before we make any plans, how about you check on Connor first, see how he's doing and then give me call?" she suggests gently.

"Uh, yeah, that makes sense," he breathes out in relief. "I'll call you later."

He leans towards her then and she holds her breath, only releasing it when his lips touch her cheek, the rough scratch of his beard creating a delicious contrast to his soft lips. He lingers for a few seconds, his hot breath fanning over her skin, creating shivers that run through her body.

He slowly pulls back, searching her eyes. "I had a really great time with you, Felicity."

Her name coming from his lips in a husky tone is doing things to her that she can't quite process at that moment. "Me too. I hope Connor feels better and that we get to continue this soon." She smiles up at him. "Good night, Oliver."

After one more tug on her hands and a full blown smile thrown her way, he lets go. "Good night."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

With long strides he reaches his son's bedroom door, opening it quietly. Thea greeted him downstairs with a guilty expression on her face, just telling him to talk to Connor before grabbing her things and leaving his apartment. That was... odd.

Connor is sitting cross-legged on his bed, a tablet in his hands, swiping furiously over the screen.

"Hey, kiddo," Oliver greets him, a suspicion forming in the pit of his stomach.

His son's head shoots up and his wide eyes meet his. "Dad, you're already home," he says, and quickly places the tablet next to him, scrambling under the covers of his bed.

Oliver narrows his eyes as he approaches the bed. "Yeah, you told me you were sick, so I came home."

"Right." The boy coughs and clears his throat, scratching his neck nervously. "Yeah, I'm not feeling well," he croaks out.

"Huh," Oliver muses as he plops down to sit on the edge of the bed. "I thought you had a fever and a headache?"

His son's eyes widen and he scrambles for an answer. "Uhh..."

Oliver lets out a deep exhale. "What's going on, Connor? Why did you fake being sick?"

Connor's head dips and his eyes fix on his hands in his lap. "I was really worried, Con."

"I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbles.

Oliver nods slowly. "Why did you do it?" he asks softly, sensing that there's more to this whole thing.

"I don't know," Connor replies quietly and looks up, meeting his father's raised eyebrows. "I thought you would forget about me," he finally whispers, and his son's watery eyes break Oliver's heart a little.

He lays his hands on his son's shoulders. "I'll never forget about you, kiddo. Why would you even think that?"

"Because all you were talking about this week was Felicity and how you were excited to see her again."

Oliver racks his brain. Had he really talked about her that much?

"What if you like her more than me?"

"Connor," he sighs. "There's no one in this world that I will ever love more than you." Woah, wait, where had the word 'love' come from?

"But you were so excited to see her."

"Yes, I was," Oliver sighs. "I like her, Con. I like talking to her and spending time with her. She's... amazing, but whatever I have with her will never change how special you are to me. No one will ever change that. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he mumbles and Oliver ruffles his sandy blonde locks and leans forward to press a kiss against his temple.

"Come on, it's time to sleep, buddy. And don't forget: today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you," he says softly and presses the top of his index finger against Connor's chest, right over his heart while the little boy does the same on his chest. He absolutely dreads the day when his son finally decides he's too old for their little ritual.

Connor gives him a goofy smile at their nightly ritual and scoots down under the covers until only his head is sticking out. "I love you, dad."

Oliver presses another kiss to his son's forehead. "I love you, too."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That quote at the end is by Dr. Suess!


	3. Forward Pass

**Forward pass** : a pass that touches a person, object, or the ground closer to the opponent's end line than where it was released from. (Source: Wikipedia) **  
**

* * *

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

"Woah, woah, woah. Go back to the part where you _bought_ a drive in theater for a date," Tommy demands, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Oliver puts the bowl of pancake batter down on the kitchen island. "That's what you find most memorable about what happened last night? Not the fact that Connor faked being sick to get me to come home?" he asks his best friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Dude," Tommy says, plopping a piece of banana in his mouth, "Can you blame him? When was the last time you went on a date that you were actually excited about and that wasn't set up by Sara or your mother?"

He regards him with a scowl. That's actually a pretty good question. When was the last time he looked forward to a date?

He can't remember.

"Fine. Point taken, but still... He lied to me," he argues. "We don't do that. That's not how our relationship works."

Tommy reaches over to pat his shoulder. "Want me to talk to him? Maybe he'll be more open about it with me."

"Sure, you can try. Just don't push him."

"Oh please," his best friend scoffs. "I'm cool Uncle Tommy, he'll tell me everything."

Oliver narrows his eyes, trying to look stern. "You know, it doesn't really count if you have to bribe him with half the concession stand, right?"

Tommy lets out an affronted gasp and clasps a hand over his chest. "How dare you, Oliver Queen? He likes me because I'm the coolest godfather in the history of godfathers. Not because I buy his affection."

Oliver snorts at the dramatic tone in his voice. "Yeah, right, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"You couldn't sleep, Uncle Tommy?" comes the tired voice of Connor from the stairs.

Tommy runs over to him, scoops him up from the floor, throwing him over his shoulder and turning in a circle, making Connor squeal in excitement. "Of course I couldn't sleep. I was _way_ too excited for today," he says and places the grinning boy on top of the kitchen island.

"What are we gonna do?" he asks excitedly, basically bouncing on the marble surface.

"Well, my tiny friend," Tommy begins seriously. "First, we're gonna watch the Archers kick some Islander butt, then we'll grab dinner with Laurel at Big Belly Burger, and then, drum roll, please." He waits for Connor to drum his hands on the marble counter. "Movie night and sleep over at my place!"

Connor cheers and gives Tommy an enthusiastic double high five. Oliver just shakes his head, chuckling under his breath, while he flips the first batch of pancakes.

Sometimes he can't believe his luck. He doesn't know what he would have done for the past ten years if he hadn't had his family and friends' unconditional support. Especially his best friend had stepped up in a major way, when he'd told him about Sandra being pregnant. Much like Oliver, Tommy hadn't taken life very seriously, growing up with everything anyone could ever dream of at his disposal, with more money in his trust fund than he could ever spend. Together they had taken girls on impromptu trips to Europe or Asia just because they could. In a way, Connor had saved them both before they could go further down the path of self-destruction.

"Come on, guys," he says and pulls himself out of his thoughts. "Pancakes are ready. You're gonna need the energy for today."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"So, what's your next move?" Tommy asks curiously once Connor has gone upstairs to change.

"My next move for what?"

"Felicity," Tommy says in duh tone. "If the date went as well as you made it seem to be, she couldn't have been happy that you just cut it short like that."

Oliver thinks back to her warm smile and the understanding look in her eyes and the way she'd held his hands when he'd told her he had to leave. _Family comes first._

"Yeah, I mean, I think she enjoyed herself, but she also understood why I had to leave." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm going on another date with her tonight."

"Wait, what?" Tommy asks in disbelief. "Two dates in a row?" He lets that information sink in for a moment. "You really like her." It's not really a question, more of a realization of sorts.

Oliver smiles at his best friend, holding his coffee mug in both hands. "I do. She's... special."

A grin spreads across Tommy's face. "It's good to see you like this, man. I know that you love Connor more than anything in this world, but sometimes I feel like you're holding your life back for his sake. You deserve to be happy, too!"

He lets his friend's words wash over him. He _is_ happy. Why wouldn't he be? He has an amazing son, a supportive family, friends that are willing to go through thick and thin with him, and a job that allows him to do what he loves. And yet, he can't deny that he feels like something or rather _someone_ is missing from his life.

Ever since he found out that Sandra was pregnant he'd been more careful when it came to choosing his dates. And as the years had gone by and his career had picked up, his love life had been reduced to an almost non-existent state. In nine years, he'd never introduced any of the few women he'd dated seriously to Connor. He'd never even felt the urge to do it. Instead, he'd always kept his life with Connor separate from his love life. Partly because he could never be entirely sure if the women he dated were honestly interested in him or just wanted their 15 minutes of fame on the arm of a well-known quarterback and billionaire.

Oh, he went on dates, but it was never serious. Sara or his mother would find him beautiful women to bring to the various charity galas or official team events he had to attend, but he hadn't been in an actual relationship with anyone for years now.

And that was more than okay for the longest time. He hadn't really realized that there'd been that particular void, until Felicity had come crashing into his life. And now, he suddenly finds himself _wanting_ to date. But only her.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Tommy asks with a smug grin on his face.

Oliver throws a dish towel at him, ignoring his knowing chuckle. "Have fun today and keep Con out of trouble."

 

 **⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **ARROW** ****⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **

 

"You went to a drive-in theater?" Caitlin asks and takes a sip of her coffee. "I didn't even know there was still one of those around here."

They're sitting in their favorite café for their usual Sunday brunch and she'd just filled Caitlin in on her date with Oliver.

Felicity tilts her head in thought. "Yeah, I didn't know either. He said he knew someone who knew someone and that's how he managed to set us up. I mean, it was amazing, Cait," she says and tries really hard not to gush too much. "It was just us, in the back of his truck, he brought food from Big Belly Burger and he somehow got them to play one of my favorite movies. He just... thought of everything." She shakes her head a little, remembering how nervous he'd been when he'd dropped her off at her house after the date had ended way too early.

"This was without a doubt the best first date I've ever been on despite the sudden end."

"Aww," Caitlin coos next to her, laying her hand of Felicity's. "But you gotta admit, the fact that he rushed home to be there for his son makes him even cuter, doesn't it? There's just something so sexy about a father with his baby."

Felicity raises a playful eyebrow. "Do you have a fetish you've never told me about? Besides, his son is like eight or nine years old and not a baby."

Caitlin frowns at that. "Wait, how old is Oliver?"

"Twenty-nine, I think," Felicity answers, remembering his comment when they'd talked about her love for computers, but doesn't like where this conversation is headed.

Caitlin's frown deepens. "So he started pretty early, huh?"

"So what?" Felicity questions and counters her friend's frown with one of her own. "I don't think that the whole thing was exactly planned."

"Guess he loses a few points for being irresponsible," Caitlin mutters, but Felicity still hears her comment.

"You don't even know him," she quickly retorts, affronted on his behalf. The sudden need to defend him, especially when she remembers how he told her just how much his son changed his life, washes over her.

"But you do?" her friend asks. "You met this guy, like, five days ago. No matter how good that date was last night, you don't really know him either, Lis."

Felicity grinds her teeth together in exasperation. Caitlin actually has a point. Damn her friend for being right. "He's just... different," she finally responds, shrugging helplessly, unable to describe her impression of Oliver.

Caitlin just sighs. "Well, since his background check didn't turn up any too scandalous skeletons in his closet..."

Felicity fidgets with her mug and misses how her friend narrows her eyes dangerously at her. "Felicity, you did do a background check on him, didn't you?"

"Uhh..."

"You have these incredible computer skills and don't use them?" Her sigh is decidedly exasperated and disbelieving.

"I just feel like it's not fair, you know, to know so much about a person before even really talking to them," Felicity argues. "I wanted to give him a chance to make his own impression without me knowing stuff about him that no first date should ever know."

"Because he's different," the brunette concludes.

"Yeah," Felicity shrugs again. "He really is."

"You know I'm just looking out for you, Lis. I don't ever wanna see a guy hurt you like he-who-must-not-be-named."

Felicity gives her her best 'really?!' look. "You can say his name, Cait. It's been years and yeah, maybe it still hurts to think about what he did, but that doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

Caitlin scoffs. "He doesn't even deserve to be called by his real name, that douchey slimebag."

Felicity huffs out a laugh. "I love you Cait, I really do, but you gotta trust me on this. Oliver's a good guy and I like spending time with him and I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Let him tell me about himself in his own pace. I'm doing the same when it comes to talking about my life. We're just taking one step at a time."

"I just want you to be with someone who makes you happy and who appreciates you for who you are!" Caitlin says and smiles at her.

"I really think he could be that guy."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

For the second time within 24 hours, she finds herself pacing through her house, nervously waiting for Oliver to pick her up. Why is she even nervous? They already spent an amazing evening together, and yet, there's still this tingly feeling of nervous anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

The door bell rings and she crosses the room in a few long strides, grabbing her bright red coat on the way. When she opens the door, she's greeted by a smiling Oliver, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, he has a beanie on his head and a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. He looks utterly cute.

He huffs out a laugh. "You don't look so bad yourself."

She groans in frustration. Of course, she'd said that out loud. "Sorry, most of the times my mouth works faster than my brain."

"Yeah," he says. "I think we've already established your talents when it comes to your mouth."

Her mouth falls open and she stares at him. Uh, what?

He laughs again and grabs her hand. "I'm talking about your babbling, Felicity."

Oh, right. Of course.

She laughs nervously, but lets him tug her along, closing the door and following him to his car, a silver Mercedes SUV. "Just how many cars do you have?" she blurts out before she can stop herself.

His head whips around to meet her questioning gaze. "Uh, why do you ask?"

"Because this is the third time I've seen you, and you were driving a different car each time," she points out.

They stop in front of the passenger door and he shifts a little. "Right, uh," he starts. "I have a few."

Well, that's a specific answer. What did he say about where he worked? Maybe she should consider changing career paths.

He opens the door for her and motions for her to get in. That's apparently one way to end a line of questioning you don't like. But why is he so reluctant to tell her about why he owns at least three different cars? If he's successful in his job, he should be proud of it, right?

A hand curling around hers in her lap pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks up, but he's already pulling away from the curb, his eyes glued to the street, while his thumb rubs infuriating, slow circles over her skin. For now, she decides to let it slide.

One step at a time.

A few minutes pass in silence before she grows restless. "Why do you never tell me where we're going or what we're doing?"

His thumb stops moving for a second before resuming its previous circling motion, and his head turns toward her when he stops at a red light. There's a little smile playing on his lips that's both, shy and excited at the same time.

"Maybe I like to surprise you."

She tilts her head. "What if I don't like surprises?" she challenges.

His smile spreads wider as he considers her question. "Well, considering that last night was kind of full of surprises, I don't think you would've agreed to another date with me."

"Point taken, I guess," she says and her smile matches his.

The loud sound of a car horn behind them lets them both flinch, and Oliver is quick to focus back on the road.

"Do you wanna know?" he asks after they drive for a few more blocks.

"If you're willing to tell me, sure."

"Have you ever been to Avalon Park?"

"Can't say that I have. When I think of it, I actually haven't seen much of Starling beside my neighborhood, the business district and everything that lies in between the two." She shrugs. "I've been so busy with work ever since I moved here that I've never spent much time exploring the city, I guess."

"Well, then I'll gladly expand your horizon if you let me."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

After another fifteen minutes, Oliver pulls into a parking lot close to the park entrance. Avalon Park is situated on a hill in the southern part of Starling, overlooking the city.

A brisk wind greets her when Oliver opens her door and holds out his hand for her to take. Damn, it's freezing. She should've brought gloves and a scarf. It's interesting that even after living here for five years, it still manages to surprise her how cold it can get.

As if he had read her mind, he opens the rear door on her side and pulls out a bag from one of the boutiques that she's walked by in the Starling City Mall a few dozen times without ever stepping foot in there. She raises her eyebrows in question as he holds out the bag to her.

"Uhh, what are you doing?"

That infuriating lopsided smile finds its way back onto his lips. "Well, it can get pretty cold up here, especially once the sun sets, so I got you something," he shrugs.

"You could've just told me that I needed to bring warmer clothes," she argues.

He shrugs again. "Where's the fun in that? Please take the bag."

She stares at him for a few more defiant seconds, before another gust of ice cold wind sweeps across her face, and her resolve quickly crumbles.

She lets him hold the bag while she inspects its contents. There's a matching set of a dark blue scarf, a beanie and gloves, all made of incredibly soft and yet thick material.

Quickly, she puts everything on, instantly reveling in the new-found softness and warmth. "Just so you know, I'm not keeping these," she says defiantly.

His smile falls at that. "Why not? They're a gift."

Felicity sighs deeply. "Because I don't like to be given gifts, especially as early as the second date, and even more so if they're incredible expensive."

"But-" he tries to argue, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.

"It's just a thing with me, okay? My ex always gave me stuff, thinking it would make me forget about the shitty way he treated me and our relationship. Spoiler alert: it didn't make me forget, it actually made everything so much worse. Gifts just make me feel cheap and make it seem like someone is trying to buy my affection."

He just looks at her intently for the longest time, almost to a point where she thinks she might have scared him off for good, when he suddenly grabs both of her hands in his, huffing out a breathless chuckle while he shakes his head lightly. "You, Felicity, are remarkable. I didn't mean to offend you with this. You just made me realize once again how far out of my depths I am with you."

She tilts her head in a silent question.

"I told you last night, you're unlike any other woman I've ever met and you just proved to me again how incredibly unique you are."

His compliment (that was a compliment, right?) leaves her speechless, so she just ends up smiling sheepishly at him.

Oliver lets go of one hand and tugs on the other one as they make their way to the entrance.

They walk along the paths of Avalon Park for about half an hour, and by the time they reach their destination, the sun has fully set. She can't help but grin widely when she realizes what Oliver has planned for today. They come to a halt at the edge of an ice rink, right there, in the middle of the park.

"Aw, this reminds me of the Frog Pond in Boston Common. We always went there during the winter whenever we needed a time out from studying," she says with a wide smile.

"So you're game for a few rounds on the ice?" he challenges, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, you're on," she accepts the challenge without missing a beat. "But there's no one else. Are you sure it's still open?"

He scrunches up his eyebrows and looks around. "Huh, well, there's still light on in the ticket booth over there. Why don't you wait here while I check? What size do you wear?"

She tells him her size, and he pulls his scarf a little higher over his mouth and nose when there's another gust of wind, before he scurries off towards the little wooden booth.

Five minutes later he returns to her with two pairs of skates in his hands, holding one out to her. They quickly change into the footwear and carefully make their way onto the ice. It takes her a few yards to get used to the feeling of being on the ice again, but once she does, she picks up her pace a little bit, turning in a wide circle to come back to Oliver.

Apparently, he's not quite as confident on the ice as her. He takes a few awkward steps, his arms stretched out to balance his movements.

"So you're game for a few rounds," she repeats his earlier challenge and earns herself a frustrated glare.

"I kinda hoped this was like riding a bike, you know?" he presses out between gritted teeth, trying hard not to fall. "I used to skate all the time when I was a kid, but apparently those are skills that you can forget."

She stops right in front of him and holds out both hands. "Come on, big shot," she teases playfully.

He sighs as he swallows his pride and takes her hands. Even though they'd been holding hands basically the whole time during their date so far and even though they're both wearing gloves, she feels a spark ignite a warm and cozy feeling in her when they touch.

She shoots him a goofy grin when she starts moving backwards slowly, instructing him to move towards her. Ever so slowly they make their way over the ice. There are a few moments when he almost loses his balance, but she always manages to hold him upright with just the right amount of support on his hands.

After ten minutes or so, she lets go of one of his hands and moves to his left, so they can skate side-by-side. They skate a few rounds, gaining speed with every fall-free turn. When he finally gains enough confidence in his abilities he dares to look up from the ice and where he's going, and instead looks up to her.

Her breath catches in her throat. To be fair, she hasn't known him for a very long time, but this, with his blue eyes shimmering with glee and an honest to god smile that stretches from one ear to the other, must be the happiest and most carefree she's ever seen him. There's a tingly sensation in her stomach that makes her feel giddy and happy that she's here to witness this moment and, dare she say, maybe even be the reason for his good mood.

They slowly come to a stop close to where they deposited their things earlier. She bends down to her purse and retrieves her phone.

"Come here," she motions for him to come closer as she takes off her glove and opens the camera app.

He obliges and slowly comes closer. She stretches the arm with the camera out while she bands the other one around his waist, urging him to come closer. In the next second, she has to swallow hard at the very welcome feeling of his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into his warm body.

"Ready?" she asks and sees him nod in the corner of eye.

Just when she's about to press her thumb to the screen, he dips his head and she almost drops her phone when she feels his soft lips against her cheek. She quickly steadies herself and grins happily into the camera before taking a couple of photos.

He pulls away form her with a goofy grin on his face. "I've wanted to do that ever since you opened the door."

Had it not been for his strong arms still holding her to him, she would've probably lost her balance.

"Ready for part two?" he asks, looking down at her with that same giddy and excited expression like last night.

"Part two?" she questions.

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "What's a date without food?"

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She tries really hard not to gape. She really does.

And completely fails.

Her mouth is hanging slightly open when she enters his gigantic loft from his private elevator, thank you very much. She's pretty sure her eyes have reached the approximate size of saucers, but she just can't help herself.

She lets herself be tugged into the vast open space by Oliver who's apparently oblivious to her current stupor.

"Are you sure you're okay with us having dinner here? I know you said it's fine, but I really don't want you to feel obligated to say yes. We can go to a restaurant if you want."

His words go straight over her head. "Huh?" is all she manages to say.

That makes him turn around on the spot, almost making her crash into him. "You okay?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

She can't contain the disbelieving huff of laughter that escapes from her lips. "Yeah, just trying to process... this," she shrugs and waves her free hand around vaguely. "Your place is ginormous and _so not_ what I expected."

A delicious smell from the open plan kitchen hits her. "You cooked already?" she asks, her eyes widening again.

They make their way towards the kitchen. "No, I wish," he chuckles. "I know how to cook easy stuff, but actually, one of my friends helped me with this."

She looks up at him and a sheepish smile is playing on his lips. "Well, since my cooking abilities are limited to boiling water, I'm not really one to judge," she quips, "And if this is only half as good as it smells, I'm sure it'll be fantastic."

 

 **⁂ ⁂ ⁂** ****ARROW** ** ****⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **

 

"Oh my God," she groans before swallowing her piece of steak. "This is amazing."

He has to concentrate very hard on his plate to ignore the sound she just made and to pull his mind out of the gutter.

"Who's your friend and is he single?" she demands. "I want to marry whoever made this."

A chuckle ripples from his throat. " _She_ is actually in a happy relationship."

"Ugh, why are all the good ones taken?" she complains and takes another bite of the steak.

"Wait until we get to dessert," Oliver teases playfully.

He watches as her eyes widen and she sucks in a deep breath, obviously forgetting that she still had food in her mouth. She chokes a little, coughing a few times before forcing down the persistent piece of meat with a healthy gulp of her red wine.

"Sorry", he says sheepishly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she croaks out and clears her throat again, her cheeks tinged in a cute shade of pink. "I just had a, uh, vivid mental picture of dessert."

It's his time to suck in a deep breath.

_Oh._

Dessert. Right.

"I didn't mean it that way," he quickly assures her. "I mean not that I don't want... because you are..." He closes his mouth with a snap and silently counts down from five. "It's Mousse au chocolat. The dessert, I mean."

Would it look weird if he facepalmed himself right then and there? Yeah? Oh-kay.

When he looks up to meet her gaze, there's a glint of mischief sparkling in her blue eyes that makes a shiver run through his body.

"Okay," she breathes out, sly grin on her face as she takes another sip of her wine.

They end up eating the dessert on his couch while the first episode of Game of Thrones plays on his giant flat-screen TV. She'd been shocked when he hadn't understood one of her quips earlier that was apparently a reference to this show, so she suggested that they should watch it together. He, of course, was happy to oblige. Because evidently she had somehow managed to wrap him around her little finger in the matter of two dates.

Oh, Tommy would have a field day if he saw him like this, basically hanging onto every word that comes from her lips about Westeros and Dothraki and a whole bunch of stuff he doesn't understand. At all.

But he doesn't care, because hearing her enthusiastic voice, and seeing a spark in her eyes while trying not to be hit by one of her hands as she's accompanying her explanations with wild hand gestures, makes him melt just a little bit on the inside.

There's this yearning inside of him that he's never felt before. And a feeling of rightness.

It feels right to have her sitting just inches away from him on his couch in his apartment, while she passionately drags him into a world of fiction. It feels right that their bodies seem to be like magnets, magically pulling towards each other with every passing minute until he feels her thigh press against his knee. It feels right to be with her. _She_ feels right.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

They're well into the third episode, her head is resting on his shoulders as they watch in silence, when she catches a glimpse of his watch and bolts upright.

"Oh my god, it's past 11. I gotta be at work tomorrow morning at 8," she exclaims and starts to gather her things hastily.

He blinks a couple of times and glares at his traitorous watch. It had been such a perfect night and this stupid little gadget had made it come to an abrupt end.

With a sigh he runs a hand over his eyes and gets up from the couch. "I'll drive you home."

She whips around. "What? No! That's a twenty minute ride for one way. I'll just take a cab."

He steps closer, laying a hand on her forearm. "It's more like ten minutes at this time of the day, and I won't take no for answer on this."

She stares up at him and for a second he thinks she'll fight him on this, but then her shoulders sag and she nods. "Okay. Thank you."

They make it to her house in just under ten minutes and Oliver mentally curses himself for not driving slower. He really doesn't want this date to end.

Slowly, he walks her to her door, his hand grasping hers gently. She had made good on her word and left the hat, scarf and gloves at his place, making him shake his head in disbelief once again.

When they reach her door, he's reluctant to let go of her hand.

When did he turn into this giant sap? Oh right, when Felicity had stepped into his life.

"Tonight was amazing, Oliver," she says breathlessly.

At least he's not the only one who's affected.

"I didn't think you could top last night, but, wow, you've really outdone yourself today."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, because I sure did," he tells her earnestly. "Is it okay if I call you tomorrow?"

Her lips spread into a wide smile. "More than okay."

He leans down and hears her breath hitch a little when he presses a kiss to her cheek. When he pulls away, he catches a glint of something (disappointment, maybe?) in her eyes.

"Good night, Felicity," he whispers and turns around before he can do anything rash that she isn't ready for.

"Oliver," she exclaims and he whirls around, just in time to catch her as she crashes into him, her hands grabbing the sides of his face, pulling him down to her, while she steps on her tip toes. They meet in the middle for a slow and languid kiss, her lips moving against his with fervor that he all too happily matches. He almost loses it when her tongue runs over his bottom lip.

He opens his mouth, engaging her tongue in a passionate duel while his hands wander down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer into his body. When air finally becomes a necessity and they pull apart only far enough to lean their foreheads against each other, he doesn't even know how much time has passed. It could be seconds or minutes or hours.

He doesn't care. All he cares about is the beautiful and completely unpredictable blonde woman in his arms that just kissed him senseless.

He opens his eyes, only to find that hers are still closed. Their breaths are mingling in the cold November air with every puff. When she finally opens her eyes, they are a little glazed over.

He can't help himself when he dips his head down and presses a short kiss to her slightly swollen lips.

She huffs a little when they part again. "Wow," she breathes out and then chuckles. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to attack you like that."

Oliver lets out a chuckle of his own. "Believe me, you can attack me like that whenever you want. If you didn't notice, I was a very willing participant."

"Oh, I noticed," she teases. "Don't forget to call tomorrow."

"I won't," he swears and kisses her one last time before taking a step back. "Good night, Felicity."

"Good night, Oliver."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	4. Winning Streak

Definition: **winning streak** , refers to a consecutive number of games won. (Source: Wikipedia)

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and twenty hours. Give or take a few.

That's how long it's been since he last saw her.

Too long in his opinion. Too _fucking_ long.

Their little hiatus wasn't by choice, but there was just nothing they could do about it. After the loss his team had suffered with the back-up quarterback playing a horrible game, the media had taken a renewed interest in Oliver's injury, questioning if it was really bad enough to have him sit out a game and if there was more to the whole story.

So instead of finding time to spend with Felicity, he had put in some extra workout sessions and had met with his team mates and coaches to quell their doubts of him in their roots. They have a realistic shot at winning the Super Bowl this year, with one of the best teams in the franchise's recent history, and everybody's looking at him to lead them to his second championship ring. He really doesn't want to disappoint them.

And then, of course, it was Thanksgiving and even though he didn't have a game on Thursday, he had spent the holiday training and then some quality time with his family. His fleeting thoughts of asking her to join his family's celebration had quickly been shut down when she'd excitedly told him about meeting up with friends in Boston for the long weekend.

He couldn't help but smile goofily when he heard the incredible excitement in her voice. From previous conversations he knew that she had a few friends in Starling, some of which went to MIT with her, but she'd also noted with an undeniable hint of sadness that her job kept her so busy that she didn't see them as much as she'd like.

Oliver knows what that feels like. Between being a single father and a professional athlete, plus the whole heir to a multi-billion corporation thing, he finds himself with only a handful of people he would actually consider as good friends, all of which are somehow connected to his job. And you know what? He's actually happy with that. He knows that the few friends that he does have, would do anything for him and Connor, just as much as he'd walk through fire for them. He simply doesn't have the time or the muse to look for new friends. Especially, because, with strangers, he can never tell if they really want to be his friends or if they just want to be associated with him for his success and fame.

If he's honest with himself, that's one of the reasons why he's so drawn to Felicity. She's probably the only woman in Starling City who doesn't know who he is. The only one that doesn't judge him based on what she's heard about his troubled past. But of course that's just the tip of the iceberg, because she's also beautiful and funny and incredibly smart and he'd be a complete fool not to be attracted to her.

"Man, what's got you smiling like an idiot?" comes his defensive guard's voice from behind him, as they jog up and down the field at a leisure pace.

Oliver's head whips around and he faces his guard John Diggle with a grin. "Ya know, life's good."

Diggle shoots him a knowing smile and teases, "Don't tell me Oliver Queen finally has a girlfriend."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Please don't refer to me in the third person when I'm right next to you, it's creepy. But yeah, let's call her that."

Diggle's hand shoots out to grab his arm, stopping both men dead in their tracks in the middle of the field. "Wait, you're serious? You met someone? How am I only hearing about this now?"

Oliver just grins sheepishly and wiggles out of his friend's grasp. "It's a recent development," he says, remembering a particular phone conversation he had with Felicity.

 

**⁂**

**⁂ ⁂**

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**(13 days ago)**

" _Hello, stranger," her voice rings through the speaker and he can't help the giant smile that erupts on his face. Two dates and he's already completely whipped._

" _Missing me already?" he teases._

_He can almost see her bite her bottom lip and scrunch up her forehead in thought when she takes a few seconds to reply. "Maybe."_

_With just one word she manages to render him speechless. How the hell can she do that?_

_Maybe._

_Such a small word, and yet, so very important._

" _Yeah?" is all he manages to croak out, cursing himself silently for his ineloquent response._

" _Yeah," she replies, smile evident in her voice. "I mean, I spent the last two nights with you, of course I'm bummed that I can't see you today."_

_His breath hitches when flashes of last night run through his brain. Her flushed cheeks, the silky skin under his fingertips, the softness of her lips against his when she'd kissed him out of nowhere._

" _Ugh, not that we_ spent _the night together. Not like that. Not that I don't want..." she lets out in a rush and exhales frustratedly. "Please, make me stop talking."_

_He grins widely. "Why? I'm interested to hear what you want."_

" _Jerk," she grumbles and his grin widens even further, if that's even possible._

" _Couldn't resist," he shrugs. "But speaking of last night, when can I see you again?"_

" _That depends on how flexible you are. I'm still pretty swamped at work, so I can't really make any promises. Plus, it's Thanksgiving week."_

_Right, Thanksgiving._

_Should he ask her if she wants to join him in his family's celebration? That would probably be a little crass, considering they've only known each other for a short time and she still doesn't know who his family is. He has a game on Saturday, so Friday isn't really an option and they usually have a get together with the team after their Thanksgiving game, so maybe on Sunday?_

" _Totally forgot it's already time for Thanksgiving," he sighs. "How about brunch on Sunday?"_

_She huffs out a laugh. "Brunch. Look at you, Mr. Fancy-Pants."_

" _What's wrong with brunch?" he asks and raises his eyebrows in confusion._

" _Nothing," she laughs. "I just don't think I've ever had a straight guy ask me out for brunch, that's all."_

_He waits a beat. "So that's a no to brunch then?"_

" _Unfortunately, yes. But not because I don't want to have brunch with you, but because I actually won't be in Starling City from Wednesday night until Monday or Tuesday," she's quick to explain._

_Oh._

_He feels a pang in his heart, that he isn't quite ready to address the ferocity of, when he realizes that he won't be seeing her until next week._

" _Oh, okay." He bites the inside of his cheek, keeping himself from asking what she's doing. He really doesn't have a right to ask that, does he?_

" _You know, if this were any other weekend I'd offer to bail out early, but I won't be seeing these guys for at least a year after this, so..." she offers._

_He can't help himself. "So you're meeting some friends?"_

" _Yup," she says happily. "It's our yearly Thanksgiving get together in Boston. We've been celebrating Thanksgiving together since my first year in college. Somehow we've managed to keep up the tradition for every year since our graduation."_

" _That sounds amazing. Enjoy your time with your friends," he replies earnestly, unable to resist her enthusiasm._

" _Yeah, I hope I will. I think this might be our last year of doing this." There's a note of sadness in her voice that he immediately decides to never want to hear again._

" _How so?"_

" _Well, our little group has shrunk significantly since we started. Some people apparently actually have a social life and time for dating and stuff. So now some of my friends rather spend the holiday with their significant other and that's okay of course," she quickly amends. "But it's still a little sad to see our tradition end so soon."_

" _I'm sorry to hear that, Felicity. But you know, this just means that you'll have to start a new tradition. I was never big on Thanksgiving while growing up. My parents always had these completely obnoxious dinner parties that I just hated. So when I was 16, my best friend and I got on a plane and went to London for the weekend just to get away from all the holiday craziness and to drink our asses off." He chuckles when he remembers the horrible hangover of his very first night in London._

" _We did that for a few years and then Connor came along and somehow changed how I saw Thanksgiving. And it also changed my parents. Now we always have a low key family dinner and actually enjoy our time together."_

" _That sounds really nice."_

" _It is. But my point here is that I had to give up one tradition for a new one and even though it was weird in the beginning, it started to really grow on me. Maybe you're at that point now, where you have to let go of one tradition and be open for a new one."_

_She huffs out a deep breath. "I hate it when other people are smarter than me. But thank you, Oliver, I think I needed to hear that."_

" _No problem."_

_An alarm sounds on his phone and he fumbles a little before he manages to turn it off._

" _Let me guess, you have to go?"_

" _I do. I'm sorry," he replies apologetically. The 'I'd rather keep talking to you' goes unsaid for now._

" _Don't worry," she assures him. "I'll call you when I know when I'm coming back, okay?"_

" _I'd like that. But hey, maybe I'll shake things up and call you before then."_

" _I'd like that," she parrots teasingly, but then trails off quickly._

" _What is it?" he asks, quickly shutting off his back up alarm._

" _Can I ask you something?"_

" _Of course. Anything." Well, except for his last name maybe. That's not something he wants to discuss over the phone._

_There's a little hesitation in her voice that puts him on edge. "What do I call you?"_

_His heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?" he asks and swallows hard._

" _When I brag to my friends about the two amazing dates we had, what do I call you? My 'lover' would imply certain things already happened, and in any case, it just sounds creepy. My 'date'? Is it too soon to call you my 'boyfriend'? I know it's only been two dates, but, you know, I'm really hoping there'll be more in the near future, so..."_

_His heart skips another beat, but for a totally different reason this time. A warm flutter spreads from his chest through his whole body._

_Boyfriend. He hasn't been called that in a long time. Correction: he hasn't_ wanted _to be called that in a long time. But hearing that word roll off Felicity's tongue in reference to him feels..._ right _._

" _I... yeah," he clears his throat. "That... I'd like that. Being your boyfriend, I mean."_

_Her response is interrupted by the shrill ring of his third alarm. He curses under his breath, he knows he'll be late if he doesn't leave right away, and he still has to say goodbye to Connor. Being late for his first training with the team again after his suspension is not the example he plans on setting for his team mates._

" _Felicity, I'm so sorry, but I really have to go. I'll call you," he says in a rush._

" _Yeah, of course. I'm sorry I kept you for so long. Have a good night, Oliver."_

" _You, too."_

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**⁂ ⁂**

**⁂**

 

Diggle's loud laugh pulls him out of his thoughts. "Man, she's got you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she? Is she here tonight?"

Oliver looks up to the stands of the stadium, letting his eyes glide over the seats that are getting more packed by the minute.

"Nah, she's in Starling."

Digg nods. "Lyla, doesn't like the away games too much either, but I guess it's mostly because she hates flying long distance. But, hey, I'd love to meet your girl when we're back home, maybe make a double date out of it. Lyla will be happy to hear that you've found someone, that way she can stop worrying about you ending up alone and with twenty cats."

Oliver's head whips around. "What?"

"Huh, probably shouldn't have told you that," Diggle muses but by the way he wiggles his eyebrows it's pretty evident that he's not really sorry.

Oliver just shakes his head and continues to stretch. "A double date sounds good, though."

"How did you meet her? I wasn't aware that you were even looking to meet anyone, plus, it can't be easy being Oliver Queen out in the dating world."

"Well, it was… unconventional," Oliver starts slowly. "And she didn't meet Oliver Queen. Not exactly."

"Man, if you found her via the internet, dump her now before the press gets wind of it. We all saw how that ended for that kid from Notre Dame."

He chuckles at his guard's sudden outburst and widened eyes. "Don't worry, Digg, she's really. Felicity is very real. She just doesn't know she met Oliver Queen. To her I'm just Oliver."

Diggle takes a moment to study him. "She doesn't know who you are?" Oliver shakes his head. "Why don't you tell her?"

"It's complicated."

The older man doesn't accept that answer. "How is it complicated? You're lying to a woman you obviously really like. How do you think it'll end if she finds out somehow before you get around to tell her?"

The insistent tone in his voice irks Oliver to no end. "It just is, okay? I have my reasons."

Digg lifts his hands defensively in front of him. "They better be good ones."

Oliver sighs in defeat. "I don't know how to tell her. 'Hey, by the way, my last name is Queen and yes, I'm that famous football guy and also yes, my family has a few billion dollars in their bank account. But hey, no biggie, right?'," he exclaims frustratedly. "I'm sure that'll be great."

Diggle halts his movements with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Just find the right time. If she likes you now, it won't change once she knows your last name."

Oliver nods gratefully. Of course, he hopes that telling Felicity won't change anything, but he also knows that it won't be quite as easy as his friend makes it seem.

All he knows for sure is that he has a game in twenty minutes. And after that game? He's going home. And tomorrow he might be seeing Felicity again. Maybe he'll tell her then.

 

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

 

"Oliver, after last week's game many experts were sure that they had seen the best game of your professional football career. And today we saw you complete an almost unbelievable seven touchdown passes that fueled your team's crushing win over the Ghosts. And all of that after sitting out a game just two weeks ago for a minor hand injury. So, of course my, and probably everybody else's, question is: what happened? Where did this sudden radical improvement come from?"

There are some agreeing murmurs while all heads and cameras in the room turn towards him. "Well, first of all, I think the whole team played an incredible game today," Oliver begins, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, letting his gaze drift over the sea of reporters in front of him. "In the end, those are the guys that catch whatever I throw their way and today they were definitely at the top of their game. As for me personally," he shrugs, smile playing on his lips. "I think I'm just in a good place. The little break two weeks ago gave me some time to reboot my system, so to say. And now I'm back and I just wanna play ball and win the Super Bowl."

"There's speculation that your new-found uptick in performance is partly due to a new woman in your life. What do you have to say to that?"

He suppresses the urge to clench his teeth and just offers a tight-lipped smile. "I'd say that I'm here to answer questions that pertain to today's game." From the corner of his eyes he can see Sara roll her eyes before glaring at him. She'd warned him to play nice with the press.

The reporter just grins back at him. "Let me rephrase that then. Was your girlfriend present at tonight's game to cheer you on?"

That smug bastard. His hand automatically clenches into a fist under the lectern.

"I don't know why you have such a piqued interest in my private life, but as you and everybody else here knows I like to keep my private life private. Next question." It takes all of his self control not to walk out of the press room, but he remains steadfast in his position on the little stage.

"But that wasn't always that way, _Ollie_ ," the reporter mocks. "You used to be so very open about your private life. Give us the dirty details about your new relationship."

Deep down he knows that the reporter is just goading him, trying to get him to react and give him something to write about. But he isn't about to give that asshole the satisfaction of a violent outburst.

"How about you let your colleagues ask some actual questions about football and we get on with this, huh?"

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"Stop looking so happy, Lis, it's fucking annoying," Iris groans, staring at her over the rim of her red wine glass. "I don't want to be the only single lady in this room."

"Aw, come on, Iris. It was about time that Lis got some," Caitlin chimes in.

"One thing's for sure: he must be some guy if good old Felicity here can't stop grinning like she just won the lottery."

"I'm not that bad," Felicity pouts and takes another sip of her wine. "And it's not just about him."

She'd come back from Boston late last night after more than two weeks. What was supposed to be just a long weekend with her friends suddenly turned into two weeks away from Starling City when the head of Merlyn Global's Applied Sciences Division called her and begged her to attend a week-long conference in Boston while he was down with the flu. She was all too happy to agree since she'd helped with the project that her colleague had wanted to present during the conference. The only downside was that that also meant that she wouldn't be seeing Oliver for a whole lot longer than she'd planned to.

The conference had been great. Between some very good talks from renowned scientist from around the world, she'd also run into Walter Steele, the CEO of Queen Consolidated. He'd invited her out to dinner one night where they had talked for hours about the new developments on the market and a joint project of Merlyn Global and QC. After dinner he'd told her to stop by his office when she was back in Starling City because he had a job offer he wanted to discuss with her. She'd been floating on a cloud of giddiness ever since that night.

She's happy at Merlyn Global, liking her work and colleagues, but she also wants more and a job at Queen Consolidated could be just that. Especially if it was that Head of Applied Sciences job she'd told Oliver about.

"I envy you," Iris sighs and leans back on the couch. "You already have an amazing job and get a job offer for an even more amazing job _and_ you get the hot guy? I want your life."

"You can have my ex," Felicity offers with a shrug.

"Ugh, I don't want that asshole. I want someone as sweet as your Oliver."

Felicity's heart stutters in her chest. _Her_ Oliver. Her boyfriend.

Somehow their two weeks apart had had an interesting effect on their budding relationship. In a way, it had brought them closer together, even if they were a few thousand miles apart. Oliver had stayed true his word and called her a few times in the first week and then somehow they'd settled into a routine during the second week. They texted during the day and talked on the phone every night after she'd come back from a night of schmoozing and networking with the other participants of the conference. She'd tell him all about the different talks she'd attended and gave him a probably too detailed description of her opinion on different hot topics of the day and he told her about Connor and his sister who was thinking about opening a night club.

It was so easy to talk to him, there was an almost natural flow to their conversation that had them up and talking for hours on end. One night she'd even fallen asleep, snuggled into the warm comforter, her head on the pillow right next to her phone with Oliver's soft voice coming over the speaker. She'd been absolutely mortified when she'd woken up the next morning, quickly calling him and apologizing profusely. But he'd just shrugged it off and had kept teasing her good-naturedly about it for the rest of the week.

Suddenly her phone starts vibrating on the coffee table and Oliver's name flashes across the screen, along with the photo of the two of them from the ice rink when he'd kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh my God, you have a photo of the guy and didn't tell us?" Iris asks and moves quickly to grab the phone from the table, beating Felicity to the punch. "Holy mother of God, _this_ is him?" She points at the screen, her mouth falling open as Felicity nods mutely. "No wonder you were keeping him to yourself. He's _hot_."

Caitlin snatches the phone from her hands, studying the picture for a moment. "You can't even really see his face. But there's definitely potential."

She swipes over the screen and Felicity realizes with absolute horror that she just answered the call. "Hello, Oliver."

Caitlin puts the phone on speaker, so that in the next second, Felicity hears Oliver's confused voice. "Uh, hi? Who's this? Is Felicity around?"

"Even his voice sounds sexy," Iris laments and Felicity feels an intense blush creep up her cheeks. Oh God, is this really happening.

"Yeah, she's around," Caitlin answers his question. "And judging by her death glare I'll be regretting this very soon, so I'll better make it count. If you hurt her, I'll find you and make you pay. Do you understand?"

"Cait?!" Felicity cries out in indignation and gets up from the couch, grabbing her phone and the bottle of wine in the process before quickly stalking into the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver," she says while sliding down against the closed door. "My friends stole my phone."

"Don't worry," he's quick to assure her, voice soft. "How are you? How was your flight last night?"

"Ehh, you know, it's just five hours. No biggie. And I'm doing great. Thanks for asking. How are you? How's your business trip?"

"I'm good and the trip was… very successful. I actually just landed in Starling and was thinking I could swing by your place before heading home." There's some hesitation in his tone as if he'd been debating to say this or not. She can't help but find it completely adorable.

"I'm actually at my friend's apartment right now."

"Oh," he breathes out disappointedly. "I was hoping to see you tonight."

She bites her bottom lip. "Well, it's getting kinda late and I think I'll call it a night soon. It's just a fifteen minute walk to my house, so I could meet you there in thirty minutes?"

"Or you could give me the address of your friend's place and I'll pick you up," Oliver suggests.

"I don't want you going out of your way."

"It's okay. I'd feel much better if you didn't walk around alone at this hour," he insists gently. "Please, just humor me, okay?"

She finally relents and gives him the address, agreeing to let him text her once he's there.

Of course her friends bombard her with a million questions when she emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, but she just dodges them and starts to clear her glass and plate from the table.

With every passing minute, her heart starts to beat a little faster in her chest in nervous anticipation of _finally_ seeing Oliver again. Their countless texts and phone calls had been well and good and they'd even facetimed a few times, but she couldn't wait to actually see him again. Two weeks were just too fucking long.

So when her phone buzzes in her pocket, she all but hightails it out of Caitlin's front door, just giving her two best friends quick hugs and telling them she'd call them next week.

The cold night air helps her to regain some focus while she forces herself to walk towards his waiting car at a normal pace. When she opens the little gate at the end of the driveway, the driver door opens. Her breath hitches when she meets his wide grin and her body moves on its own accord when she makes a few determined steps in his direction.

He meets her halfway and suddenly she's in his arms, being lifted from the ground and pressed firmly into his body. A laugh bubbles in her throat and she's about to greet him when his lips close over hers. All the words she'd wanted to say are stuck in her throat, her eyes flutter closed and she leans into the kiss. Her hands move up to cup his face, fingertips running over his stubble.

When she'd imagined this (and yes, she'd imagined this), their first kiss after being reunited was frenzied and desperate, trying to make up for two weeks, but in reality it's soft and gentle, with just a hint of urgency. His lips move over hers slowly, almost like he's trying to savor every millimeter of her, while his arms are still wrapped firmly around her, keeping her feet a few inches off the ground.

After what seems like forever, he sets her down and they break apart, if only for an inch. Their foreheads are pressed together when she opens her eyes.

"Hey," he breathes out and his intense blue orbs lock with hers.

"Hey, yourself," she whispers back, while her fingers move slowly over his stubble.

His eyes flicker to something behind her and he chuckles. "We have an audience."

Knowing that he's talking about her two friends, she groans and dips her head so that her face is buried in his chest. "I'll never hear the end of this."

"Let's get you home," he says with a laugh and tugs her towards the car but not without stealing another kiss.

The drive is short and filled with chatter and before she knows it she's pressed against the front door of her house by Oliver's body in a vivid repeat performance of their first kiss two weeks ago. When they break apart she's glad to see that his cheeks are also a little flushed, his lips swollen and his breathing labored.

"I missed you," he whispers softly, his thumb stroking gently over her cheek.

She leans into his touch and sighs contently. "I missed you, too." She turns her head and presses a kiss to the palm of his hand. "Do you want to come inside?"

"I wish I could," he sighs. "But Connor is waiting up for me and, like you said earlier, it's getting pretty late and he has school tomorrow."

"Hmm, okay, but only if you can tell me when I'll see you again."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Well, not really ask, more like suggest," Oliver lets out in a rush. "I… uh… I'd like you to meet Connor."

"Oh," she breathes out. "Yeah, wow… Really? Not that I don't want to meet him, but I didn't think it would be this soon."

He groans and closes his eyes for a second. "Is this too soon? Do you feel like I'm pushing you? I don't want to push you into something you don't want."

"No, Oliver, you're not pushing me," she assures him and takes his hand in hers. "This is a little unexpected, but I love the idea! I'd really like to meet your son and if you think now's a good time then we'll do it now. If you decide tomorrow that we should wait longer, then we'll wait. Whatever you think is best for him."

A smile appears on his lips and he dips his head down to kiss her languidly. "You're incredible, Felicity," he murmurs against her lips and kisses her again. "How about dinner at my apartment tomorrow night? Just the three of us."

"That sounds amazing," she replies without hesitation.

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	5. Fumble

Definition: A _**fumble**_ occurs when a player who has possession and control of the ball loses it before being downed or scoring. A fumble may be forced by a defensive player who either grabs or punches the ball or butts the ball with his helmet (a move called "tackling the ball"). […] It is one of three events that can cause a turnover, where possession of the ball can change during play. (Source: Wikipedia)

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Oliver scurries around the kitchen, checking on the food Raisa had left on the stove. Alas, that woman is a godsend. He'd only come back from afternoon practice half an hour ago and Felicity is supposed to arrive any minute now. As so many other times, Raisa had picked Connor up from school and looked after him while he was at practice. Truly, a godsend.

"Connor, can you please stop playing video games and put your school stuff away?" he calls over to the living room where his son is playing one of his favorite games on the big screen.

"I'm not finished with math," he answers distractedly.

"Wait, what?" Oliver stalks over to the couch. "You know the rules, Con. No video games until after you finish your homework," he says sternly.

"Yeah," his son replies without taking his eyes off the screen. "But I couldn't solve one of the problems and you weren't here, so..." he shrugs.

Oliver clenches his jaw, unsure if he should feel guilty or annoyed. He'd talked to Connor this morning, telling him that Felicity would come by tonight and was only met with a shrug of outward indifference. But he'd also seen the little flicker of uncertainty running across his son's face. Of course, their conversation of the night of his first date with Felicity had come to mind and he'd been quick to reassure his son once again.

He knows that he can't blame Connor for feeling uncertain of meeting Felicity. Not that Oliver's also feeling uncertain. He's not. Fine, maybe he's a little nervous. This is, after all, the first time he's bringing a girlfriend home to meet his son, but at the same time he feels like this is the right thing to do. He wants her to meet Connor. Something he's never wanted for any of the few women he's dated seriously. There's just one thing...

"Hey, Con?"

"Huh?"

He scratches the back of his head. "Uh, could we maybe not talk about football or my team tonight? Felicity is... uh... not really into that stuff and I don't wanna bore her," he finishes lamely.

"Whatever, Dad," Connor says distractedly.

Great, now he's lying to his son. _One step closer to a father of the year award_ , he thinks sardonically.

Suddenly Connor lets out a shocked "No!" that rips Oliver out of his guilty conscience.

"What's wrong?"

"The screen just went black," he whines and gestures wildly at the dark screen.

"Just try turning it off and on again. If it doesn't work, I'll send Raisa to the store to get it repaired tomorrow," Oliver sighs.

Just then their private elevator dings, indicating Felicity's arrival.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Come on, Con, let's go say hi to Felicity."

He quickly makes his way over to the foyer, his son trudging slowly behind him, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. It's probably for the best that Oliver can't hear what his son is saying or the swear jar would get a significant donation from his son's allowance tonight. All of those thoughts fly out the window the moment he sees Felicity stepping off the elevator and greeting them with a luminous smile.

"Hey," he breathes out and presses a kiss to her cheek, lingering for just a second.

"Hi, you two," she greets them happily, glancing carefully at Connor.

"Connor this is Felicity. Felicity, Connor," Oliver introduces them quickly.

"Hi, Connor, it's great to finally meet you in person. Your dad talks about you a lot," she says and throws Oliver a playful wink. When her enthusiastic greeting is only met by a non-committal "hi" and a half-assed handshake, Felicity clears her throat and reaches into her purse.

Oliver feels a pang of guilt wash over him when he sees how stiff Felicity's posture has suddenly become, obviously unsettled by Connor's less than warm welcome. He knows that his son usually needs some time to warm up to strangers, but this is simply rude. _And the stellar parenting continues, Oliver._

"I got you this," she hands Connor a book who takes it without so much as a glance. "It's part of the Famous Five series and just the first of many. I read them all when I was your age and I thought you might like them."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Connor," Oliver says sharply, finally fed-up with his son's behavior. "If you don't stop being this rude to Felicity, you can go to your room and forget about getting your Wii fixed."

"But, Dad," the blonde boy whines in protest and looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"No buts, Con," he stands his ground. "Now, get your things ready for school tomorrow."

"You know, I could take a look at the Wii, I fixed my friend Barry's Wii just last week. Maybe it's the same problem," Felicity suggests hesitantly.

Two dirty blond-haired heads whip around to face her. "You can do that?"

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Twenty minutes later, Oliver steps back into the living room and his heart stutters in his chest at the sight before him. Felicity is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his TV set up, the Wii right in front of her, some of its parts strewn over the floor. Connor is perched right beside her, pointing at something inside the console. His question sets off an enthusiastic explanation from Felicity, that for the life of him, he can't quite follow even though he's pretty sure she breaks it down so that Connor can actually understand it.

His heart takes another hasty leap when Connor's face lights up with a smile and he eats up the barely existent distance between them and hugs Felicity tightly, almost knocking her over. Her hands immediately wrap around his little body and hold him to her for a second.

"What's going on?" Oliver asks curiously as he comes closer.

His son disentangles himself from Felicity and beams up at him. "She says she can fix it."

"That's great, Con."

"But I can only do it if you help me," Felicity reminds him. "So how about you hand me that processor and I'll reassemble this baby?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Connor says and does a mock salute before handing her one of the parts from the floor.

Oliver sits down on the couch and watches them in silence as his girlfriend continues to patiently explain what she's doing at that moment to Connor. He just can't look away, too engrossed in seeing her interact with his son, somehow breaking down her tech talk so that he can understand it, answering every question Connor throws her way.

A wave of unfiltered happiness floods his system, taking over every last cell in his body. Seeing his son so happy and enthusiastic about something is all a father could ever ask for. And he couldn't be more relieved to see that despite the rocky start, Felicity is completely hitting it off with his son. How could he ever have doubted that? Of course she'd conquer Connor's heart by storm. This is Felicity he's talking about. She'd done the same thing with him. How did he ever think that his son would be able to withstand her unique charm?

Connor hands her the last screw and looks up at her. "Hey, Felicity?" he asks and wrings his hands nervously.

"Yeah?" she replies while she fastens the last screw and turns the game console around with a happy grin.

"I'm sorry for not being nice to you earlier." His voice is low and timid.

She looks at him intently for a few moments before nodding her head. "Okay, apology accepted."

Connor's eyes widen. "Don't you wanna know why I wasn't nice?"

She shrugs lightly. "If you want to tell me, sure."

He bites his lip in contemplation before whispering, "I thought you wanted to steal my dad."

Oliver hears a sharp intake of breath and he's not sure if it was Felicity's or his. Maybe both? His gaze flies up to to find her widened eyes staring back at him. He knows that she wants him tell her what to say, but for the life of him he can't get his body or mind to do anything. He just sits there, rooted to his spot on the couch, staring at her with a hint of panic in his eyes.

She clears her throat and turns her gaze back to Connor. "Why would you think that?"

"Because he likes you." Another sharp intake of breath, this time definitely from Felicity whose cheeks turn a vivid shade of pink. "And he wants to spend time with you. But he's already working and traveling so much and I only see him in the morning and in the evening. If he's going out with you, I see him even less."

The pang of guilt from earlier makes a whooping comeback in the pit of his stomach, the feeling akin to being punched in the gut. It's always in the back of his mind, the sinking knowledge that he neglects his son by having his football career. Between the different training sessions each day, team meetings, away games, and charity functions throughout the season, he's grateful for every second he gets to spend with his son. But hearing Connor say that he's scared of losing him, breaks his heart and makes him consider -not for the first time- if he should finally give up his football career.

But what would happen then? He majored in business administration in college and he knows that his mother always wanted him to take over Queen Consolidated one day, but could he really do that? Could he take on the responsibility for a multi-billion dollar company with thousands of employees depending on him to make the right call?

"You wanna know what I think?" Felicity's voice breaks him out of his thoughts and it takes him a moment to realize that she's not talking to him but to his son. "I think you're the most important person in your dad's life and he wants to spend as much time as possible with you. And nothing and no one will ever change that."

Connor nods eagerly and waits for her to continue. "I really like spending time with your dad, but I don't want you to miss out on your time together, so maybe we can come up with a compromise."

"Like what?"

She tilts her head in thought. "Maybe we can find time to see each other when you're in school or already in bed," she suggests slowly.

Connor considers her answer for a moment before nodding. "That sounds good. Then we both get to spend time with my dad." He hesitates, "But..."

"But what?" Felicity asks with a smile.

"But then I never get to see _you_."

Oliver watches Felicity's throat constrict as she swallows hard. "Then maybe we should find a day when we can all spend some time together."

"I'd like that," Connor says easily and beams at her, getting up from the floor. "Dad, is dinner ready yet? I'm really hungry."

Oliver takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah, I think so. How about you go check on it?"

He gets up form his seat on the couch, ruffling his son's hair as he walks past him towards the kitchen. In two long strides Oliver comes to a stop behind Felicity who's stood up from the floor as well, banding his arms around her smaller body and pulling her flush against him, reveling in the small gasp of surprise she huffs out.

His lips brush against the shell of her ear as he speaks. "You're amazing."

Her hands come up to cover his over her stomach, fingers stroking deftly over his skin. "Your son is amazing."

He smiles and presses a kiss against her hair. "He is," he agrees. "He's also right."

"About what?"

His head dips down and he kisses the side of her neck, eliciting another gasp. Something that's becoming one of his favorite pastimes – making her breathless.

"About the fact that I like you," he whispers and feels her shudder against him before whirling around in his arms.

She bites her bottom lip as she searches his eyes and he tries to convey all of his feelings for her with just his look. After a few seconds, her lips curl up into a smile. "I like you, too."

He matches her smile and leans down to kiss her languidly, nibbling lightly on her bottom lip until she opens her mouth to his tongue, meeting him in an enticing dance. Her body is pressed into his, fingers slipping under his shirt, running up his back slowly.

His hands on her ass seem to bring her back to reality because, suddenly, she pushes him away slightly, their lips disconnecting, but her body staying flush against his in the warm embrace of his arms.

She takes a few steadying breaths before speaking. "We can't do this. Your son is in the next room waiting for us."

He leans his forehead against hers. "I know," he breathes us and grin at her. "That doesn't stop me from thinking about continuing this." He runs his tongue over his lips. "Just us."

She closes her eyes and blindly leans up to press a kiss against the underside of his jaw. "I can't wait." Her lips move to his cheek and then to the corner of his mouth. "But right now, we're going to have dinner with your son," she says and moves out of his arms.

"Yes, Ma'am," he mimics Connor's earlier salute.

As he watches her retreating form, he's torn between feeling happier than he has in a long time and anxious as hell when he thinks of what will happen when he tells her who he is. The mere thought of losing this happiness and contentment he feels whenever he's around her, has his stomach twisted up in knots.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

From her position in Caitlin's kitchen she lets her gaze drift through the door frame over the throng of people currently occupying her best friend's living room. Her birthday party is in full swing - even though technically it isn't Felicity's birthday yet. But since it falls on a Sunday this year, her friends had convinced her to have a party on Saturday, promising to keep the party going well into her actual birthday.

She takes a sip from her wine glass and smiles as she remembers the week that had led up to this day. It had been a flurry of working long days and amazing dates with Oliver.

On Monday, after a difficult first few moments with Connor, they had eventually warmed up to one another. One of the night's highlights being witnessing a tender father-son moment when Oliver had put him to bed and read a chapter from the book she'd brought for him. Well, that and the crazy hot make out session she'd had with Oliver on his couch afterward.

On Tuesday, Oliver had told her to come over to his apartment for lunch, which had ended with straddling his lap. Her wandering hands had only been stopped by her phone alerting her of the impending end of her lunch break.

On Wednesday night, she'd invited the two over to her house to cook dinner together. It had been a night filled with joy and laughter ringing through her kitchen and living room until Connor had fallen asleep while watching Finding Nemo, his head in Felicity's lap and his legs sprawled over Oliver's thighs.

On Thursday, Oliver had come to her place after he'd put Connor to bed, bringing along a pint of mint chip. That alone was reason enough for her to trap him between her body and the front door and kiss him senseless. They'd somehow made it over to her couch, her body pressed into the soft cushion by his muscled torso. All too soon he'd pulled away from her, hoisting his body up and kneeling down next to the couch, kissing her softly. Her confusion must've shown on her face because he'd explained that he still wanted them to learn more about each other and that when the time came he wanted to be able to stay the night without having to worry about Connor. How could she argue with that?

They hadn't seen each other yesterday, but he'd stopped by her house this morning with Connor to make her an "appropriate early birthday breakfast" (his words, not hers), which, she has to admit, had been absolutely amazing. Connor had given her a bouquet of daisies and Oliver had watched her with a huge smile while she unwrapped a beautifully crafted photo frame holding the picture of them in the ice rink, as well as an unbelievably expensive bottle of Lafite Rothschild that she'd almost dropped in pure shock. It had been the perfect start to her day.

All week long, Caitlin and Iris had bombarded her with questions about Oliver and teased her about the kiss they had witnessed on Sunday night. Confronted with all those questions about her boyfriend she'd realized just how little she actually knew about him. Sure, there were a lot of things she assumed to know about him based on their conversations, but when she thought about it she realized that Oliver was very careful and guarded whenever he disclosed a tidbit about himself.

That should have probably made her nervous and eager to run to the next computer and finally do that background check she's been refusing to do since the first night she'd met him, but instead it only strengthened her trust in him. He'd stopped her when she'd wanted to take their relationship to the next level, saying that there were still things they needed to learn about each other. So that means that he doesn't want to take advantage of her, unlike other men in her past, right?

She glances at her phone, checking to see if she has any messages from him. He'd warned her at the beginning of the week that he probably wouldn't be able to make it to her party or see her on her actual birthday because he had work things to attend to, hence the early birthday breakfast this morning, but she'd still held onto a little sliver of hope that he was going to come tonight after all.

No text or missed call.

She sighs and shoves her phone back into her back pocket. She loves her friends for throwing her this party, especially because they do it at Caitlin's house which means her own is safe from the party aftermath, but despite seeing all her friends and colleagues tonight, all she really wants to do is curl up on her couch with Oliver, drink some wine and enjoy a rerun of Game of Thrones.

"If it isn't the birthday girl herself," a voice comes from behind her and the blood freezes in her veins.

What the actual fuck?

She turns around slowly. "Ray?"

"Hey, babe, long time no see," he drawls, grinning cockily down at her.

Unconsciously, she takes a step back. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town for the weekend and when I heard that you were celebrating your birthday I thought I'd stop by and say happy birthday." He steps closer, his body almost touching hers. "Happy birthday, Felicity."

She braces both of her hands on his chest and pushes him away. "Great, thanks," she bites out. "Now I want you to leave."

"Mhh," he hums and leans his head down to her ear. "I could make it a very happy birthday for you, you know."

An involuntary shiver runs through her, the fine hairs of her neck standing up in apprehension. "God, you haven't changed one bit, have you? You have a wife," she points out firmly, leaning away from him.

He shrugs carelessly. "Anna didn't bother you when we were in college. Plus, she's far away in Seattle right now."

Her expressions darkens and she presses her lips together. "That's because you made me believe _I_ was your girlfriend. You know, not just the girl you screwed despite having a girlfriend for almost four years."

He scoffs, "You're still hung up on that?"

Her decidedly rude answer gets cut off by her phone buzzing in her pocket. After a quick glance at the screen she picks up. "I love your timing."

Oliver laughs on the other end of the line. "Are they trying to make you play beer pong?"

She sighs. "I wish. Actually my ex is here and he's being the same annoying and obnoxious asshole he was the last time we saw each other." She shoots Ray a dirty look. "So I'm guessing that judging by the lack of car sounds in the background it's safe to say that you really aren't coming?"

It takes him a beat to answer. "Is he bothering you?"

She glances at Ray who's leaning against the kitchen island, sipping lazily on his beer. "No, he's just… Don't worry about it. How was the rest of your day?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am." Just then, one of her co-workers comes stumbling into the kitchen and trips over nothing, her wine glass slipping from her hands and crashing to the floor. "Shit," Felicity curses Deborah's clumsiness. This may not be her apartment, but she's still the host and she needs to take care of this. "Oliver, I gotta go. Call me when you find some free time tomorrow, okay?!" She quickly hangs up without waiting for his answer, knowing they'll talk more tomorrow, and moves to the pantry to retrieve a dustpan and broom. 

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Ten minutes later, she's still plucking little shards of glass off the floor when the backdoor to the kitchen flies open. She whips around only to find herself face to face with her boyfriend. "Oliver?" she stutters in confusion.

"Are you okay?" he asks and closes the distance between them, his hands cupping her cheeks, tilting her head up while he's checking her for any injuries.

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He lets out a long, relieved exhale and brushes a chaste kiss to her lips. "I just heard something break and then you hung up so quickly and after you mentioned that your ex was bothering you... I was just worried."

She smiles up at him and steps on her toes for a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. "I'm okay, and Ray was just leaving anyway."

She follows his gaze as it settles on her ex-boyfriend. The smile that had appeared on his lips quickly transforms into utter disbelief, his eyes growing wide. "Palmer?"

Wait! Oliver knows Ray?

"Oliver Queen," Ray drawls. "Shouldn't you be in bed, resting up for getting your ass kicked tomorrow?"

Her head turns from one man to the other. Did Ray just say Oliver _Queen_?

Holy shit.

Oliver just stares at the other man, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

"Going for sloppy seconds now, huh?" Ray snarls. "Just remember, everything she does in bed she learned from me. After all, I was the first one who fucked that pretty little-"

"Shut up," Oliver growls and takes a step towards the other man, Felicity quickly stepping in the way when she recognizes the look on his face to be even more furious than the first time they'd met, seconds before he'd punched a stranger to protect her.

"Oliver, don't."

Apparently spurred on by his reaction, Ray continues his rant, "She's not very adventurous though, I fear. When I wanted to get in the backdoor she was all like 'no, baby, it's gonna hurt'," he says in a high pitched voice that's probably supposed to mimic hers. It doesn't.

She gives Oliver a little push when his muscles twitch beneath her fingers and urges him wordlessly with a pointed look to stay put. He clenches his jaw but does as she asks. Satisfied, she turns around and stalks over to Ray, swiftly pulling back her hand and slapping him across his face. The slap echoes through the empty kitchen and she ignores her throbbing palm when she leans closer to him.

"If you ever speak about me or any other woman the way you just did, hell, if you even think about me like that ever again, I will destroy you. Do you hear me? I will turn your life upside down, take everything you hold dear away from you, end your career and drive you to the edge of bankruptcy. Do you understand?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turns around and walks past Oliver. "Upstairs. Now."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

It takes Oliver two whole minutes to follow her upstairs. She sits on Caitlin's bed, her legs dangling off the side, hand throbbing in her lap as she glares at the open door. When he appears in the door frame she lets out a long breath. This won't be be a fun talk. He closes the door behind him and comes to a stop before her, holding out a dish towel.

"Some ice for your hand."

She accepts it without a word and stares at him. "You're Oliver Queen."

How did she not realize this?

He sighs and nods. "Yes."

There are times for beating around the bush, but today certainly isn't one of those, so she just goes straight ahead. "Why didn't you tell me who you are?"

"Felicity," he starts, his tone pleading and soft and oh so vulnerable, but she can't succumb to that now. She needs answers.

"No," she interjects firmly. "This is your one chance to explain yourself. So you better make use of it." She's done wasting her time being lied to by men she has genuine feelings for. No more!

His head drops in defeat and he slowly moves to sit next to her on the bed, angling his body, so that he's facing her.

"I wanted to tell you. I swear I did, but..." he trails off, searching for the right words. "In the beginning I was so surprised. I don't think I've ever met anyone in Starling who didn't recognize me, be it for who my family is or for my football career. And then when we started dating, the timing never seemed to be quite right and the more time went by the harder it got to just come out with it."

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

He waits a few beats. "What are you thinking?"

She lets out a humorless laugh. "I think that I'm an idiot for not realizing that I was dating one of Starling City's most eligible bachelors. I think that I'm stupid and naive for repeating the same mistakes I've made with Ray."

She sees a flicker of hurt run over his face, but he swallows it down and asks, "What happened with him if you don't mind me asking?"

Felicity snorts lightly. "I met him while I was in Boston. I was going to MIT and he was the quarterback for the Harvard football team. I couldn't believe when he showed interest in me and I let myself be sucked into what I thought was a fairytale." She shakes her head. "I was 18 and naive. We dated for a few months and everything seemed to be going great, I didn't even realize that he'd never introduced me to any of his friends or that we never went out on public dates, until one day after the NFL draft when he very publicly announced that he got engaged to his girlfriend of four years."

It's painfully obvious how similar the situations are. She hasn't met any of Oliver's friends, she doesn't even know any of their names, now that she thinks about it, and they've mostly stayed in for their dates or gone to secluded places like the drive-in theater or the ice rink. God, she's so stupid. How did she miss all these signs _again_?

"He cheated on her with you," he breathes out.

She nods. "Yeah, he did. I swore I'd never let myself be used and deceived like that again. Guess that didn't work out."

"Felicity," he whispers brokenly and takes her hands in his. "I swear I never meant to hurt you with this. What can I do to make this right?"

Her eyes land on their entwined fingers, fighting the urge to answer his light squeeze of her fingers. An unbidden wave of realization crashes over her. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what?"

She meets his searching eyes. "I don't know if I can date Oliver Queen."

His face falls at that. "But you have been dating him… _me_. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we've both had an amazing time together so far, save for tonight."

She looks at him sadly. "But I didn't know who you were."

"That's exactly my point. You didn't know and it wasn't different for you than dating any other guy. Knowing my last name shouldn't change how you've felt about me for the past few weeks," he argues, his voice stronger now. More convinced.

"But for the last few weeks it was just us. No outside world. Just us," she reasons. "In a way, you're right. I was Oliver Queen's girlfriend, but at the same time I wasn't… really. And what we had is not a realistic scenario for the future."

"I don't understand what you mean. I'm still _me_."

She huffs in frustration. How could it be this hard to say everything that's going through her head?

"Yes, you are, but do you expect me to believe that I would've never met your family? That the press would've never gotten wind of our relationship and tried to dig up every last bit about my past? That I wouldn't have been expected to attend functions or galas or whatever with you?"

"I guess," he concedes.

"And that's exactly what I mean. Oliver Queen is in the public eye, people wanna know what he's up to. They expect things of you and whoever you date because you're the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire and because you're the star player of the local football team, and yes, even though I'm not interested in football, I can make that connection... now."

She squeezes his hand and sighs. "So yes, to me there's a difference between dating Oliver Queen and Just Oliver. And I don't know if I can be the woman Oliver Queen dates. I don't know if I'm the kind of woman someone like Oliver Queen needs to date."

"You're everything I want or need, Felicity," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

She quickly stands up, breaking their connection, needing a second to breathe. "I need some time to process this, Oliver."

He steps up beside her, not touching her, and she feels her fingers twitch, yearning for that contact. "How long?"

"I don't know, just… some time. A week, two. I don't… I'll call you when I'm ready," she offers.

He nods slowly. "So this means there's still a chance for us?"

Her heart aches in her chest at his soft, hopeful words and she loses the battle of wills and reaches forward, her arms circling around his back, her body pressing into his. He immediately wraps his strong arms around her and holds her as close as humanly possible.

"Please tell me I didn't screw this up for good," he whispers against her hair. "Please tell me there's a chance."

She twists her head so she can look at him. "You were right," she begins, pressing a kiss against his stubbled throat. "Knowing your last name doesn't change how I feel about you, so yes, there is a chance. But I just need some time to wrap my head around things and find a way to... be okay with it."

"I'm so sorry for not telling you from the beginning. If I could turn back time, I'd do things differently," he says, watery blue eyes begging her to believe him.

She bites her bottom lip, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "I know," she tells him with a sad smile, not quite ready to forgive him.

Throwing all caution to the wind she steps up on her tip toes and captures his lips with hers, hoping that this won't be goodbye. Hoping that she can put everything behind her and forgive him for deceiving her. Or maybe forgive herself for repeating old mistakes.

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	6. Onside Kick

Definition: an **onside kick** is a play in which the kicking team tries to recover the kicked ball.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

“Woah, woah, woah. Say that again and slowly this time because for a second there I thought you said you're dating Oliver Queen,” Caitlin exclaims with wide eyes and puts her wine glass down on the table.

Felicity takes a deep breath before answering. "That's actually what I said."

A garbled sound of surprise and shock leaves her best friend's mouth. " _The_ Oliver Queen? The football superstar. Former playboy extraordinaire. Heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune. _That_ Oliver Queen?"

She just shrugs helplessly and takes another long sip from her wine. It's highly doubtful that alcohol will make this conversation any easier, but hey, it's worth a try.

"You're telling me that _your_ Oliver is Oliver _Queen_?"

"Yes, but you can stop saying his last name like that," Felicity grumbles.

Caitlin stares blankly at her. "How in the world didn't you recognize him? His abs and his junk are plastered all over the city in those underwear ads, he's constantly in the newspapers and on TV whenever there's a game."

Felicity gets up from her seat on the couch and starts pacing through her living room.

Isn't that the one million dollar question?

How the hell did she not realize that she was dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, hell, in the whole country?

"Did you never ask him for his last name?" Caitlin wonders. "I guess I get why you didn't want to do the whole background check stuff but not knowing your boyfriend's last name seems a bit weird, not to mention potentially dangerous."

Felicity groans and plops back onto the couch. "That's the thing, though. I thought I knew his last name."

"So he lied to your face about it?"

"Not exactly," she says. "The first time I went over to his place we were watching Game of Thrones when he got a phone call that he took over in the kitchen, but since his apartment is this gigantic open-plan loft I could still hear some of what he was saying. And he said something like 'put me down as Oliver Jonas' and he emphasized the Jonas part so I thought that was his last name and that's why I was never really bothered by any of this because I thought I _knew_ his name."

"Oh honey, that's his middle name," her best friend says and squeezes her hand lightly in support.

She groans and lets her head drop to the head rest. "I can't believe this happened to me."

"And you never suspected anything?" Caitlin probes.

"No," the blonde exclaims frustratedly. "I mean, when I first met him I thought there was something familiar about him, but I never expected _this_. I just thought he was this sweet, thoughtful, handsome as hell guy who was crazy enough to take an interest in me."

"Hey," Caitlin interjects sharply and waits until her friend looks at her. "You're awesome and beautiful and he better be interested in you!"

Felicity smiles gratefully at her.

"So what's next?"

"I asked him to give me some time to process all of this."

"So you haven't broken up?"

"No, I guess we're taking a break?"

Caitlin eyes her carefully. "And have you had any realizations about your future with him, yet? Do you still want to be with him?"

"That's not the question I'm asking myself right now."

"Explain that, please," her friend urges her softly.

"I want to be with him. He's this incredibly amazing guy, Cait," Felicity starts slowly. "He's sweet and polite and funny and smart, and you should see him with his son. He just turns into this gooey ball of adorableness whenever he just mentions Connor."

"So, be with him," Caitlin shrugs.

"It's not that simple. I don't know if I can."

"Why not? If he's all those things, you should be all over him. Hell, you should keep him far away from me because now I want to be all over him. He sounds perfect."

"Yeah, but he's Oliver Queen," Felicity exclaims and jumps up and starts pacing again.

Her friend shoots her a confused look. "Yes, I think we've established that fact by now. Why is that a problem?"

"Are you kidding me? Why is that-? He's Oliver Queen! He's the football superstar, the former playboy extraordinaire and the heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune," she repeats her friend's earlier words. "How the hell do I fit into that life? How do I date someone who has all those obligations and expectations and..." she trails off, waving her hand helplessly in the air.

"So it's not really about knowing his last name but rather about what will happen to your relationship once you go public?" Caitlin guesses.

"Yes," Felicity says defeatedly and slumps down on the couch. "I'm just... scared."

"Of what? He's kept you out of the press so far, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but that's because we never went on an actual public date. The first date was just us alone in that drive-in theater and then we went to the park for our second date, but it was at night and he was all wrapped up in his hat and scarf so nobody could've recognized him. After that, all of our dates were either at his or my place."

"Okay, so you go to a restaurant next time, give the tabloids some fodder to talk about and then they'll lose interest soon." Caitlin shrugs, "It's just like ripping off a band-aid. It'll sting at first, but then it's over. I mean, how much interest can people have in Oliver Queen's dating life?"

Felicity grabs her tablet from the coffee table. "I don't know about Oliver, but I googled 'nfl quarterback girlfriends' earlier. You know what kind of results I got? It was all Top 10 and Top 20 lists of who's the hottest girlfriend. Guess what? There was not _one_ IT specialist in any of those lists. They're all actresses and playmates and fucking super models."

To her surprise, Caitlin lets out a hearty laugh. "So what, Lis?" You don't care about that shit. And by the looks of it, Oliver doesn't either." When Felicity just glares at her, she continues. "Lis, that man could have _any_ woman in this world, but he _chose_ to be with you."

"Well, maybe for him it's just easier to be with someone who's not famous."

"Felicity, stop," Caitlin retorts harshly. "He's probably dating you because he likes you and because you're you."

"But can I date Oliver Queen _and_ be me?" She questions, her voice rising in volume.

"Of course, why not?"

"Because I'll be reduced to being 'Oliver Queen's girlfriend'. Nobody will see me for who I am. Nobody will give me credit for the things I've achieved in my life and they'll all just care about my hair and make up and why I'm not as thin as those super models. They'll probably think that I only got that job offer at QC because I'm dating the boss's son. Nobody will take me seriously," Felicity exclaims a little breathlessly.

"Oh honey, anyone who just takes one look at your resume knows that you've earned that job offer because you're incredibly smart and because you deserve that position," she says with conviction and takes Felicity's hands in hers. "I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling with all of this weighing on you or what's going on in that genius head of yours. And don't get me wrong, I think you make some very valid points and this is all something you'll have to consider at some point. But for now, you should just stop putting so much stock into what other people hypothetically may or may not think about you and Oliver some day, and rather dig into your own thoughts and find out if and how you're going to be with him."

"What if I come to the conclusion that I can't?" Felicity all but whispers, fighting to keep her tears at bay.

That right there is really the core issue, isn't it?

She knows that she likes him. Knows that she would like to be with him, continue their blossoming relationship. But what if, after weighing all her options and really thinking this through, she realizes that she can't handle the pressure of dating him? That she doesn't want her life turned upside down by paparazzi and reporters and the world (or at least Starling City) scrutinizing every choice she makes. That she can't live her life like before.

Caitlin smiles sadly at her. "Then you let go."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"So we're not going to the zoo on Sunday?" Connor asks as he draws his eyebrows together in confusion.

Oliver shoots him an apologetic smile. "We can still go if you want, but Felicity won't be joining us."

"But why not?" his son inquires persistently. "You said you'd come home on Saturday night from your away game and then we would pick up Felicity the next morning and go see the baby polar bear at the zoo."

"I know, Con," he sighs. "The plan changed."

"Is she sick?"

"No, she just needs some time without us."

"So she doesn't want to spend time with us anymore?"

Oliver clenches his jaw. "It's just… temporary."

"But it was her idea to go to the zoo," Connor presses on.

"Look, Connor, she's angry with me and doesn't want to see me for a while," he finally relents.

His son's frown deepens. "What happened?"

Oliver runs a hand through his short hair, scratching the back of his neck. "I wasn't honest with her."

"But you always tell me that lying is bad."

He shakes his head slightly. "And it is, because it can hurt people and then they don't want to talk to you."

Connor's frown turns into an angry grimace. "So you hurt Felicity?" There's a protective edge to his son's tone that he can't help but feel proud of.

"In a way, yes," he admits and lowers his head. "I didn't mean to, but I still did."

"Did you apologize to her? She forgave me when I wasn't being nice to her," Connor reminds him eagerly, hope blossoming on his face. "Maybe I can talk to her?"

That makes Oliver smile. "That's very sweet of you, but no, when the time is right I'll talk to her." He sighs deeply and kneels beside his son's bed. "Alright, time to sleep, buddy. Today, you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you," he murmurs softly and presses a kiss to his son's forehead. "Good night, Con."

"Good night, dad."

He's almost at the door when Connor's voice catches him. "Hey, dad?"

He turns around. "Yeah?"

"I really like her. Do you think she's coming back to us?"

Oliver blinks a few times, lost for words. "She'll come back," he finally whispers, not sure if he's trying to convince his son or himself. "She'll come back."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

His phone rings halfway through an episode of Game of Thrones, a show that isn't quite the same without Felicity's running commentary, he realizes quickly. But still, it reminds him of their time together and right now he'll take what he can get. He reaches behind him and grabs the phone.

"Hello?"

" _Mr. Queen, good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you this late, but I have a guest waiting for you in the lobby,"_ comes the voice of Jim, the building's night concierge.

He rolls his eyes. "I don't expect anyone. Just send them away."

He's about to hang up when Jim speaks up again. _"But, Sir, it's the nice young lady that has been coming and going with you. Her name is, uh,"_ he hears him ask whoever is down there for her name. _"Right, Felicity Smoak. She says she can come back if now isn't a convenient time for you."_

Felicity?

"No!" he says a little too loudly and he clears his throat awkwardly. "Send her up, please."

He hangs up and jumps up from the couch, looking around wildly, contemplating if the mild disarray of his apartment is within an acceptable range. Surrendering to the fact that he can't change it anyway in the next ten seconds, he makes his way over to the elevator and waits nervously.

What is Felicity doing here? Had he missed her phone call somehow? Highly unlikely, considering that he's been checking his phone in embarrassingly short intervals since Monday in hopes of seeing their picture and her name flash up on the screen.

What does it mean that she's coming by now? It has 'only' been three days since everything had blown up in their faces and she'd said she needed a week or two. A quick decision like this can't possibly be good, can it?

"Oliver," her soft voice yanks him out of his thoughts, and his head whips around to look at her. "Deep in thoughts?" she asks with the faintest smile on her lips.

"Hey," he breathes out, but remains rooted to the spot, unsure of how to greet her. "Uh, how are you?"

He slams his eyes shut and groans inwardly. Really? 'How are you', that's the best he could come up with?

Somehow, he doesn't hear her move towards him, but suddenly he finds himself with an armful of Felicity as she presses herself into his body. His eyes fly open in surprise and he can't suppress the sharp intake of breath when he feels her warm hands come to rest flat on his back, her face pressed into his chest. It takes him exactly two point five seconds before he circles his arms around her and pulls her impossibly closer.

His head dips down so he can bury his nose in her hair, right over her ear. "God, I missed you." The words tumble out of his mouth in a whisper before he knows what's happening.

He feels her take a deep breath and he's ready to apologize for just blurting it out like that when she moves her hands to come to rest on his waist, fisting the fabric of his shirt, and he hears her soft voice. "I missed you, too."

They stay in their embrace for a while longer before she finally pulls back. "I hope it's okay that I'm just dropping by like this. I should've called ahead."

"No, don't worry," he assures her as he takes her hand and pulls her gently towards the couch. "I'm glad you're here. Would you like something to drink?"

"Glass of wine maybe?"

She settles down on his couch and gladly accepts the glass he brings her. He sits down next to her, barely resisting the urge to take her hand again.

"How are you, Oliver?"

"Uh, I'm… yeah, I'm okay. You?"

She smiles tentatively. "Good, swamped at work as per usual. Been doing a lot of thinking. About us."

Right, cutting right to the chase.

He nods slowly. "Yeah, me, too." After a deep breath, he continues, "Have you… made a decision?"

Her head tilts to the side in thought. "I don't think it's just about me making a decision. I came here to talk."

"Okay," he agrees slowly.

"I hear you won against the Atoms on Sunday," she says with a smile. "Barry hasn't been able to shut up about you playing a fantastic season, especially in the last few weeks after your injury." She takes a breath. "Oh, you missed a game after-"

"Yes, I did, but it's not a problem," he cuts in quickly. "And it wasn't really about the injury. I could've played but my coach benched me for getting into a fight."

Her eyes widen. "Oh God, Oliver, I'm so sorry you got into trouble because of me."

"Hey," he says softly and takes her hands into his. "Don't worry about it. You know I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Felicity," he starts again after a few beats of silence. "Is this… Are we still happening?"

She lets out a long exhale and he feels his stomach drop in uneasy anticipation of her answer. "I like you, Oliver. I like spending time with you, and of course, I've enjoyed the time that we've spent together over the last few weeks."

"But," he interjects, dropping his head defeatedly. Is he a fool for ever believing there was a real chance for them left?

"But," she repeats and cups his jaw with both hands, making him look up at her. "I'm scared."

His brows furrow. "Of being with me?"

"Of how being with you will affect my life," she explains, looking straight into his eyes. "I know this sounds selfish and it probably is, but I've worked long and hard to get my career to where it is right now. I'd hate to have my professional value called into question after it becomes public knowledge that I'm dating you. If I got promoted at MG, everybody would think it's because it's your best friend's family company. If I took Walter up on his job offer at QC, everybody would say I only got it because I'm sleeping with you. I want to be recognized and valued because of what I've accomplished and because of who I am and not because I'm dating you."

He watches as she bites her bottom lip nervously. "I get that. I really do, Felicity. In a way I've lived through that myself. Growing up, I was always Oliver Queen, son of successful business moguls Moira and Robert Queen. Their and everybody else's expectations were crushing me and I only ever seemed to disappoint everybody. It was only after I started playing for the Archers that I started to be seen for who I am. Yes, I'm still heir to QC, but I'm also my own person."

"How do you deal with being in the public eye all the time?" she asks curiously.

"I grew up with the media attention around my family, so to be honest, I've just learned to tune it out most of the times. And then of course, for my job I have to give interviews basically every week, so I've kinda just gotten used to it. I mean, it still pisses me off when the paparazzi start to lurk again, but all of that usually dies down once the season's over," he shrugs.

"So it doesn't get to you when they write things about you?"

"I try not to let it get to me. Most of the time they just make stuff up or blow something completely out of proportion. My publicist usually combs through everything and contacts me when there's by some miracle a true story out there that warrants a statement from me. The only thing that really gets to me is whenever they write about Connor. Despite everything, I want him to have a childhood that is as normal as possible."

She nods but stays silent, seemingly lost in thought. "This is what you're worried about? The media and all that?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's just all pretty intimidating, you know?" she says slowly. "I mean, I don't know how much the media attention from your life would translate into mine, but just the thought of people discussing what I wear or eat or why I don't look like those models and playmates that quarterbacks seem to have a soft spot for, is just… troubling."

A chuckle ripples from his throat. "Felicity, believe me when I say that all those women have got _nothing_ on you. Sure, they may be beautiful, but so are you. And do you know what makes you even more beautiful and sexy as hell?" She shakes her head and blushes profusely. "You're smart. You're so smart that you can talk circles around me without even trying. You're amazing with Connor and you're not afraid to say what's on your mind. You're funny and patient and you look like an actual woman and not like those… sticks. So don't even bother comparing yourself to them. Because they don't stand a fucking chance."

Without thinking about it, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her mouth, emphasizing his point. She sighs against his lips and combs her hands through his hair, holding him in place.

He finally pulls away before the kiss can get too heated. "Please tell me that we're giving this another shot, everyone else be damned."

She looks up to him with wide eyes, pupils blown. "I don't think I have another choice."

Oliver pulls back a little more, studying her face. "Why's that?"

Her lips curl up into a smile. "Because I think I'm falling in love with you."

He sucks in a sharp breath and surges forward to capture her lips in another kiss. With their foreheads leaning against each other, breathing heavily, when they part once again, he whispers, "Good, because I think I'm falling in love with you, too."

Her responding happy bark of laughter may be the most perfect thing he's ever heard in his entire life.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"You look happy," Diggle notes casually beside him while he's lacing up his running shoes.

Oliver grins back at the older man. "That's because I am."

And yeah, he really is. Felicity had stayed the night at his place. They'd spent hours talking and kissing on his couch until they'd both fallen asleep. He'd woken up in a mess of tangled limbs and with a good mouthful of her blonde locks and he couldn't have been happier about it. She'd left pretty quickly, though, because she had an early day at the office and needed to get to her place to shower and change. But not without promising to come back over for dinner that night to tell Connor that their zoo date on Sunday was totally a go.

When Connor had finally made his way downstairs she'd been long gone. Despite his best efforts and the promise of dinner with someone special, Oliver wasn't able to lift Connor's grumpy spirits. Even when he'd dropped him off at school he'd still had that annoyed frown etched into his features.

"Good for you, man," Diggle says with a wink. "Ready to run a few miles?"

Right on cue, Oliver's phone starts ringing and he shrugs apologetically. "Hello?"

"Mr. Queen? Good morning, this is Jenna Kemper, one of your son's teachers at Starling Academy."

"Good morning, Mrs. Kemper. How are you? Is everything okay with Connor?"

"Well, your son was showing some odd behavior. He was acting up in class, so I sent him to the principal's office, but he never arrived there. We reviewed our security tapes and it looks like he left the campus without permission and without giving notice to anyone," the teacher explains hurriedly.

"How could he just leave the campus? There's a guard at every entrance preventing just that from happening?" Oliver asks, clenching his fist in a vain attempt to contain his anger and fear.

The woman clears her threat. "It seems like the guard was taking a break at the time."

"Have you alerted the police, yet?"

"At this moment there's no reason for us to get the police involved. For all we know he just went home."

"Are you kidding me right now?" he exclaims heatedly. "My son is walking around Starling City right now without money or any means of communication because of your negligence and you're not even going to call the police?"

"Sir, there's really no-"

"You'll be hearing from my lawyers," he says coldly and hangs up.

He quickly finds Felicity's contact in his phone and brings it back up to his ear, ignoring the worried look Diggle shoots him. "Felicity," he breathes out when she picks up. The gravity of the situation suddenly hitting him full force, clogging up his throat. "I need your help."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	7. Busted Play

Definition: _**busted play**_ is a play which, due to unforeseen circumstances, deteriorates to the point that it no longer conforms with coach's playbook and leads to confusion or chaos on the field.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Numbly, Oliver sinks down into the soft sofa cushions in his suddenly too big and empty apartment. The constant rushing in his ears drowns out the voices around him. He knows he should be listening, making plans, coming up with a strategy, but he can't. His body is numb, completely unresponsive to his brain's urges to move, to do _something_. All the adrenaline from earlier is gone and all he can do is sit there and stare at his trembling hands. The only thing on his mind: where's Connor?

"Ollie, I talked to my dad. He reached out to his old colleagues and every cop in Starling City is on the lookout for Connor. But I need you to send me a new photo of him, the only ones I have are a few years old."

He inhales sharply, trying to steady his ragged breathing. Two hours. It's been two hours since he got the call that his son is missing. Two hours of being scared out of his mind and feeling utterly helpless.

"Ollie, listen to me, we have to do this _now_ ," Laurel urges him. "Sara is preparing everything for the media and she also needs a photo, so can you at least give me your phone?"

Sitting here now, feeling this kind of desperation and downright terror, it's hard to believe that a little more than twelve hours ago he'd sat in this exact same spot with Felicity half draped over him and a feeling of happiness and contentment blossoming in his heart.

" _Ollie._ "

He jerks his head up, meeting Laurel's worried glance. "Right, sorry." He digs his phone out of his pocket, but before he can hand it to his lifelong friend, an all too familiar photo flashes across the screen. Felicity.

"Please tell me you've found something," he rushes out after picking up.

"No, I'm sorry," she says on the other end. His head slumps down in defeat. "I've set up different searches and scans of the city wide traffic camera network, and linked it with the FBI's facial recognition software that I tweaked a little bit. If Connor's out there, I'll find him." There's a confidence in her tone that gives him hope. "How are you holding up?"

He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm-"

"Don't say fine."

"-fine," he finishes in the same breath. "Felicity..."

"It's okay not to be okay, Oliver. Your son is missing. You're not _fine_ ," she says gently.

"I just… He's out there. Alone. And I'm here, and I can't do anything. I don't even know if he has a jacket on and it's really cold outside and..."

"He has a jacket on," Felicity interjects quickly. "And a hat and scarf."

"What? How do you know that?"

She sighs softly. "I may have hacked into the school's network to look at the security footage you said they had. Well, that is after restoring the files that those dirty little bastards deleted. They're probably trying to cover up their mess. I hope you're suing their asses seven ways to Sunday when we find Connor."

Even now, when fear is holding his heart in a vice grip, this incredible woman somehow manages to make the situation just a little better by just being… Felicity.

He swallows past the lump of emotions in his throat. "Are there any traffic cams near the school?"

"I had the same thought. Yes, there are, but before you get your hopes up, all the cameras in that area, as well as a lot of other cameras throughout the city, are down for a routine software update that will run for another one and a half hours. That's probably why I haven't had any hits on my search yet."

He clenches his teeth in frustration. "Can we call whoever is running the updates and tell them to stop?"

"No, I already looked at the whole process and there's really nothing we can do. If we cancel the update the system will need about two hours to reboot," she sighs defeatedly. "We can only wait and hope that we get a hit on one of the cameras that is online. We will find him, Oliver, with or without the cameras."

"I hope you're right," he breathes out. In the background he can hear a knock on her door and her order not to disturb her.

"Sorry, there was some- Connor!" her sudden outburst catches him completely off-guard.

"What? Did you find him? Did you get a hit?" he asks quickly, getting up from his seat. Laurel shoots him a questioning look but he ignores her and starts pacing. "Felicity, talk to me."

"No, no," she stammers and he can hear her chair scrape against the floor and then the hurried clicking of her heels. "He's here. In my office."

There's some rustling and muffled voices, and he's almost certain that she held her hand over the phone's mic. "He's okay, a little cold and hungry, but otherwise he's okay," she assures him finally after three torturous seconds.

"Oh thank God," he breathes out in relief. "Put him on the phone, please."

"Hey, Connor, your dad wants to talk to you," he hears her say before his son's petulant reply. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Uh, he… I think he just needs some time right now."

"Give him the damn phone," he barks in response. He just wants to talk to his son, is that so damn hard to understand?

"Oliver-"

"Felicity," he grinds out between clenched teeth. "Give him the phone."

There are some more rustling sounds and then he hears his son's steady breathing.

"Con-" he starts, but is swiftly cut off.

"I don't wanna talk to you," is all he hears before the line goes dead.

He stares incredulously at his phone for a full five seconds before a surge of anger replaces his surprise.

What the fuck?

"What's going on, man?" Tommy asks as he comes closer to him.

"Connor's fine, he just turned up at Merlyn Global," Oliver bites out.

His best friend claps his hands together in relief. "Thank God."

Oliver's phone starts buzzing in his hand, his girlfriend smiling widely at him from the screen.

"I'm coming over. Stay in your office, I don't know if the media has already gotten wind of this," he sighs as he picks up.

"Look, Oliver, I know it's not exactly my place, but Connor seems really upset with you right now and maybe he just needs some time to… cool off," she suggests cautiously, just by the sound of her voice he can tell that she's nervously nibbling on her bottom lip.

"You're damn right, it's not your place," he growls into the phone. "I just spent the last two hours being scared out of my mind, so don't try to tell me what to do or not to do. I'm coming over to get my son."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She stares at the phone in her hand, her mouth hanging open in shock. Did that really just happen? Did Oliver really go off on her like that?

"Felicity?" Connor asks quietly. "I'm really hungry."

She closes her eyes, counting to five in her head, before opening them again, shooting the little boy a warm smile. "I don't have anything to eat here, but your dad will be here in no time."

The boy shuffles his feet, a frown etched into his forehead. "I skipped breakfast this morning," he says in a small voice, and right on cue she can hear a little rumble from his stomach.

Shit!

At this time of day, the traffic will be horrible and it'll take Oliver at least twenty minutes to get here. He told her to stay put, but letting his hungry son just sit here seems like a terrible idea. Torn up about what she should do, she's finally convinced by Connor's watery puppy dog eyes that stare up at her.

"Okay, there's a really good diner around the corner. They have the best hot chocolate and grilled cheese sandwiches in the whole city."

There's an amazed shimmer in his eyes that somehow tells her she's doing the right thing. "Really?"

"Really," she assures him and quickly shrugs on her coat before holding out her hand. "Let's go."

Not even five minutes later, they're seated in her favorite diner, waiting for their orders. She'd fired off a quick text to Oliver, telling him where they were going, so he wouldn't be worried when he didn't find them in her office and could directly come find them.

Once again her teeth are digging into her bottom lip as she contemplates her decision. If Oliver's earlier reaction is anything to go by, he won't be happy that she left her office with Connor. But what was she supposed to do? The boy was hungry and cold and by the looks of it in dire need of a friendly ear. 

Before they'd left the safety of the Merlyn Global headquarters, she'd quickly searched for any mentions of Connor's or Oliver's name on the internet on her phone. Only when her search had come up empty she'd left the building with one of the security guards in tow.

The waitress comes by their table with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and Connor quickly wraps his little fingers around the warmth of his mug. Felicity takes a moment to observe him. He's remarkably calm, considering everything that has happened today. His cheeks and nose are a little rosy from the cold, but otherwise he seems to be in good physical health. Her gaze finds his as he's watching her with a curious glint in his eyes.

She smiles warmly at him and tilts her head to the side. "What?"

"Aren't you going to ask me why I came to your office?"

"Mhh," she hums and takes a cautious sip of her hot chocolate. "I thought you'd tell me when you're ready. Do you wanna tell me now?"

He considers her reply for a few seconds and finally nods his head. "I want to talk to you."

"Okay, about what?"

He sighs, and Felicity has to press her lips together to suppress the smile that threatens to break out when she sees the exasperated look on his little face that matches that of his father perfectly. "About my dad."

"Uh, oh-kay?"

"He told me that you're mad at him and that that's why you don't want to go to the zoo with us on Sunday. But I thought that if I talked to you, maybe you'd change your mind."

"Oh," she breathes out, the puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place. "Connor, that's incredibly sweet of you. It really is, but you can't just leave school without telling anyone. You had us all worried, especially your dad. We even called the police to help us find you."

"I'm sorry," he mumbles and bows his head.

She reaches over the table to lay her hands on top of his. "Hey, look at me." He slowly lifts his head, big eyes staring up at her. "I'm just glad you're okay and that nothing bad happened to you, Connor. But please don't ever do something like this again."

He nods his head quickly. "Okay, I promise."

Their food arrives and they munch on their grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries for a while. "Why didn't you want to talk to your dad?" Felicity asks between bites.

"Because I'm mad at him," Connor replies grumpily. Before she can ask why, he continues, "He was the reason you didn't want to spend time with us because he lied to you. And he always tells me that lying is a bad thing, but then he did it to you."

"But you still wanted to fix this for him?"

"Yeah, I love my dad," he states matter-of-factly. "He smiles a lot more when you're there, you know? But this week he didn't smile, he was sad a lot, and I don't like seeing him like that, so I thought that I could help him be happy again. But then he told me that it was his own fault that you didn't come over anymore. He likes you and I like you, too, and I wanted to play Mario Kart with you, but I couldn't because dad made you be angry with him," he lets out in a rush, and even Felicity who's used to having scattered thoughts has trouble following so quickly.

"Oh, Connor, your dad and I-"

"There you are." Oliver's voice makes her jump a little in her seat in surprise.

She watches as he closes the distance between him and his son to engulf Connor in a tight hug that the young boy reciprocates with a little less fervor.

"Come on, little man, we're going home," Oliver says and grabs his son's jacket.

Connor mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like "I'm not a little man" before he speaks up louder, "Can I go to the restroom first?"

She watches as a wave of wariness crosses over Oliver's face and she quickly turns to the young boy. "Connor?"

"I promise I'll come back."

Her eyes follow his path until he vanishes behind the restroom door and she turns to face Oliver who has plopped down into the seat opposite her that was previously occupied by his son.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hisses, his eyes narrowing at her.

She leans back into the plush seat of the bench, taken aback by his harsh tone and cold eyes. "Uh, what?"

"You talked to him about his behavior today." It's a statement that has the bitter aftertaste of an accusation.

"Yes, I did," she says cautiously. "He wanted to talk to me and I listened and gave him my opinion."

His hand on the table curls into a fist. "You don't get to do that, Felicity, you're not his mother and just because we're dating doesn't mean that you have any right to interfere with my relationship with my son and it definitely doesn't give you the right to ignore what I tell you to do." His voice is low and measured, and, God, would she like to slap that cold and distant expression off his face.

"What you tell me to do?" She repeats incredulously. "I'm not one of your players that you get to boss around. I made a choice and I stand by it. Your son was hungry and needed someone to listen to him, so that's what I gave him. I did what I thought was best."

"You were wrong. You should've waited for me. I can listen to whatever he has to say," Oliver angrily throws at her.

She shakes her head sadly. "You know why he left school today and came to me?" She doesn't wait for his answer, and just continues, "He wanted to help you fix our relationship. He's a good kid, Oliver, and his heart is in the right place, but I think he's confused about what's going on between us and I honestly can't blame him. Maybe meeting him so early on in our relationship was a bit too hasty."

"Yes, it was."

Talk about feeling like someone punched her in the gut. She sees the flicker of regret run across his face, but by then her eyes are already burning with unshed tears.

She clears her throat twice before she feels like her voice will sound at least somewhat normal. "I'm going to go back to the office." She takes a steadying breath. "I get that you were worried out of your mind and this situation is new to you, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me and our relationship like this. Come talk to me when you get your head out of your ass."

Just then, Connor rounds the corner but stops dead in his tracks when he sees that she's about to leave. "You're leaving?"

She silently wills her watery eyes away and crouches down to his level. "Yeah, I have to run back to the office, I missed a meeting this morning and my boss isn't too happy about that."

"Can I come with you? Maybe I can help you with your work," Connor suggests promptly. "I'm getting better at math."

"Always trying to save the world, aren't you, Superman?" she smiles at him. "But no, you can't come with me. You gotta go home with your dad and talk to him."

"Aw, shucks," he mutters under his breath. "What about Sunday? Are we going to the zoo?"

The sheer amount of hope in his voice and the spark of excitement in his eyes are almost enough to say yes. Almost.

"No, Connor, I'm sorry," she whispers, her throat tightening when she sees the disappointed look on his face.

"When will I see you again?"

Her eyes flicker up to Oliver who's watching their exchange with a stony expression. Great, no help from him apparently.

She fixes her eyes on Connor once again, swallowing hard before replying, "I don't know."

In a split second he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her neck, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you for today," he whispers, and Felicity feels her throat clog up even more.

She can't do more than smile weakly at him when she gets up and rummages through her purse to find her wallet and throw some bills on the table. Just when she turns to leave, she feels a calloused hand on her forearm. The same calloused hand that was cupping her cheek, raking through her hair and creeping under her shirt to run up and down her spine last night. How bittersweet that memory feels now.

Her name falls from his lips in a whispered plea and she squeezes her eyes shut. She can't look at him, not right now, not after everything he said. Warmth seeps into every last pore of her body as she feels him step closer, leaving only an inch between them. It's too close and not close enough, at the same time.

His hot breath fans over her ear and she can't hide the involuntary shiver that runs through her body. "I'm sorry, Felicity," he whispers hoarsely. "I'll come by tonight." And then his lips are on her cheek, pressing a kiss to her skin and leaving their scorching, invisible mark.

She nods jerkily and spins around, having to get away from him before it gets too much. She makes it all the way to the door before the first tear hits the ground.

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	8. Touchdown

Definition: A _**_touchdown_**_ is a play worth six points, accomplished by gaining legal possession of the ball in the opponent's end zone or by the ball crossing the plane of the opponent's goal line with legal possession by a player. It also allows the team a chance for one extra point by kicking the ball or a two-point conversion. (Source: Wikipedia)

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Oliver nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other in front of her red front door, his fingers tightening around the bouquet of flowers. He's not nervous because he doesn't know what he wants, he's nervous because he doesn't know what Felicity wants. Which is technically not true because she'd sent him a text earlier telling him that she didn't fell like talking tonight and that they would talk on Sunday once he got back from his game.

So yeah, here he is, grossly ignoring her wishes because he's a selfish bastard and he just couldn't keep sitting at home doing nothing. He knows he screwed up big time and the mere thought of leaving things in this shitty mess he made for three days without talking to her, is possibly the worst idea ever.

If he's honest with himself, he has to admit that he's scared that if he gives her more time to think about what he said, she'll dump his ass without so much as a look back. That right there is the worst case scenario and he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try and fight for a chance to get her forgiveness.

He takes a deep breath and raps his knuckles against the door, the air getting trapped in his lungs as he waits for her to open it.

When the door does finally swing open after fifteen excruciatingly long seconds, he opens his mouth, apology right at the tip of his tongue when he realizes that he's come face-to-face with someone who's definitely not Felicity. And someone who's definitely a man, even though he looks more like teenager.

A man whose curious eyes grow as big as saucers. "Oh my God, you're Oliver Queen," he exclaims excitedly, looking like he uses every ounce of control not to jump up and down giddily.

Oliver narrows his eyes and ignores the man-boy's realization. "Is Felicity home?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, she's in the shower," he replies and waves his hand vaguely towards the inside of Felicity's house. "Man, I'm a huge fan. And the way you've been playing this season? Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. I go to every one of your home games."

"Yeah, that's great," Oliver replies impatiently. "Uh, I'd like to speak to Felicity, so if you could just let me in, that would be great."

The man-boy stills in his excitement and his expression sobers. "Oh, right," he says with a frown. "I don't think today is such a great time for that. You see, this guy she was seeing, who's now been permanently renamed to ass hat -her words, not mine- that treated her like a complete jerk today and so she just needs some time to..."

His voice gets drowned out by the sudden rush in Oliver's ears as he tries to process what he just said.

Was seeing.

 _Was_ seeing. As in, past tense.

Holy shit.

Is she already considering their relationship to be over? Has she already decided that she will not give him another chance. Is this man-boy in front of him the guy she's moving on with?

"So how do you know Felicity?"

He shakes his head slightly, getting the world back into focus. "I just do," he growls and fixes his opponent with a glare.

The man-boy frowns in curiosity and then his face goes slack. "You're the ass hat," he breathes out with wide eyes as realization hits him. "You're her Oliver. Holy shit! _You're_ the guy she's been dating?"

"Yes," Oliver presses out between clenched teeth. "Will you let me in now?"

Man-boy regards him for a few long seconds before his face transforms from wondrous surprise to stoic determination, while he plants himself firmly between the door and its frame. "She doesn't want to talk to you."

Oliver narrows his eyes dangerously and takes a half step forward. "Do you honestly believe you can stop me?"

Man-boy swallows, but stands his ground vigilantly.

Oliver is about to issue a more obvious threat when Felicity's voice sounds from inside the house, quickly approaching. "Is that the pizza guy?"

He can't see her because man-boy is still obstructing his view, until a slender hand with brightly colored finger nails circles around man-boy's waist and her head peeks out from behind his scrawny frame.

Her smile instantly drops when she sees Oliver and he can't help but feel his heart stutter at the way her eyes narrow as she steps around man-boy. "What are you doing here?" She sounds exasperated and tired.

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. Now or never. "I came to talk."

She shakes her head slightly. "I told you I don't want to talk to you tonight."

"I know. I just thought maybe..." he trails off, searching for the right words.

"Barry, can you give us a minute?" she asks man-boy, and when he doesn't move she lays a hand over his chest that Oliver finds himself glaring at with a tightly set jaw. "This won't take long," she assures Barry and he finally gives in and says, "Holler if you need me." He turns around to leave, but not before throwing Oliver a disdainful look, all his previous admiration wiped away.

Oliver watches her for a moment, really taking her in. She's in yoga pants and a hoodie that's too big on her and almost reaches her mid thigh. He's trying really hard not to think about whose hoodie that is. _Really_ hard. But the flare of jealousy and possessiveness in his chest is unmistakable. The only man's clothes he wants to see her in are his.

His eyes drift up to her face. It's clean of any make up, her skin just a little paler than usual, except for her eyes. They are red-rimmed and puffy - a dead giveaway that she's been crying.

Because of him, he realizes with a sinking heart.

Fuck.

"Felicity," he starts, unsure of how he can ever tell her how sorry he is for what happened earlier. A wave of guilt and uncertainty washes over him. "Can we please go inside and talk?"

She stares up at him and shakes her head sadly. "No, we can't, Oliver. I asked you to wait until Sunday."

"I know," he interjects quickly. "But I can't wait that long with this between us. I need you to know that I'm so incredibly sor-"

"Save it, Oliver," she cuts him off. "I can't do this right now."

"Please, Felicity."

"Not tonight." There's a finality to her voice, but he still can't let it go.

"Why not?" He knows his voice is getting more agitated, but damn it, he came here to fight for a chance and he'll be damned if he gives up so easily.

"Because it won't end well for us," she exclaims loudly, slamming her lips together.

He stills, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "What do you mean?" he asks and a part of him knows that this is bordering on self-induced torture, but he just has to know.

She looks up at him with an almost desperate look, tears pooling in her eyes. "Right now, every logical cell in my body tells me to dump you before you can hurt me again," she all but whispers.

His body goes completely still, his breath hitching in his throat.

There it is. His worst fear.

"Don't give up on me," he breathes out hoarsely. "Don't give up on us. Please."

She huffs out a humorless laugh. "It's not that simple. Do you even know what-" she presses her lips together to keep herself from saying more. "We're not talking about this tonight," she finally says after a few steadying breaths. "You need to leave."

His mouth falls open to protest as his heart urges him to fight. But at the same time, his brain takes in her tired eyes and the way her shoulders are slightly slumped forward and he just... can't.

His head drops in defeat. "Okay," he whispers and turns away from her. He's about to take a step away from her when he remembers the flowers in his right hand, the stems probably crooked or broken from gripping them too tightly. He holds them out to her, not daring to look up. "For what it's worth... I really am sorry," he mumbles. "Just... call me when you're ready."

He nods once, not sure who he's trying to reassure that he's doing the right thing. His feet are finally moving him towards his car before he does something that will screw up the last chance he has with her. When he's halfway down the stairs, he hears her front door fall shut, and then nothing but silence. It damn near breaks his heart.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

" _Oliver, apart from a few hiccups, so far you've played an incredible season, and then this bad streak. What happened out there tonight?"_

" _What happened is that we won," Oliver bites out._

" _By one point, that will hardly satisfy you," the reporter points out._

" _A win is a win."_

" _While that may be true, your performance in particular, for the second time in a row I might add, was nothing compared to what we've seen over the course of this season. How do you explain that?"_

_Oliver clenches his jaw visibly and glares at the reporter. "Just wasn't my day. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to catch." Without so much as a glance back he turns away from the camera and stalks off._

The TV screen suddenly turns black and Felicity whirls around on her couch to glare at her best friend who still has the remote raised towards the TV. "I was watching that."

Caitlin sighs and rounds the couch. "I know. I've been watching the NFL Network with you for the past four hours. Something I never thought I'd do in my life," she sighs and plops down on the couch beside her friend. "It's really not healthy to keep watching your ex on TV."

"He's technically not my ex," Felicity mumbles.

"Oh please, you haven't talked to him in almost two weeks. That kinda makes it seem like you broke up with him."

"Ten days. And we haven't broken up."

"Yet," Caitlin says with raised eyebrows. "He was a complete jerk. Maybe that could have been forgivable if that was the first thing he screwed up, but after the whole not telling you who he really was thing, I'm surprised you didn't dump his ass when he came over that night."

"I've told you before, it's not that simple."

"But it should be. If a guy treats you badly, you should dump him and move on. His loss."

Felicity bites her bottom lip. "I know that what he said was a shitty thing to do, but now that I've had some time to process everything, I kinda understand."

"Nuh-uh. Nope, Lis, _do not_ defend him. There are no circumstances under which it's even remotely okay for your boyfriend to talk to you like that," her best friend insists.

"Even if he just went through complete hell, worrying about his son being missing? The way his voice sounded that morning when he called me... he was heartbroken and just... _desperate_ ," Felicity argues quickly. "I can't even begin to imagine what he must've felt in those hours."

"Fine, but that doesn't give him the right to say the things that he said."

"No, it doesn't," she sighs. "But I think he didn't know how to react to me taking the control that he had just regained by going against his wishes. So he reacted with anger and frustration."

Her friend remains quiet for a long time before she shakes her head. "You've already forgiven him, haven't you?"

Felicity shrugs helplessly. "I just... I hate that I can't stay mad at him, but at the same time I hate it even more to _be_ mad at him. And I know that it doesn't make any sense," she says quickly when she sees Caitlin open her mouth. "But this whole thing with him doesn't make any sense. How could I have fallen so hard and so quickly for a guy that I didn't even really know? How is it possible that after only a few weeks the mere thought of not being with him, despite everything that has happened between us, makes my whole body feel like it's twisted up in knots?"

She rakes a hand through her loose curls. "These feelings I have for him don't make sense. But they're there and apparently they're not going to go away. So what the hell am I supposed to do? Sit here and do nothing?"

"You could let him suffer a little longer," Caitlin suggest off-handedly.

Felicity narrows her eyes at her. "Well, the thing is, he's not the only one who's suffering. I mean, yeah, he played like shit today and last week, and he looks like he hasn't slept in forever, but I'm not exactly doing any better," she points out, letting her eyes drift over her coffee table that's littered with half a dozen different kinds of chocolates, an empty bottle of wine, and a half-empty pint of mint chip ice cream.

Her best friend shoots her a sympathetic smile. "Does he know that you're back?"

After his sudden appearance on her door step that night she'd decided to start her Christmas vacation early that year. On Friday, she'd finished up all her reports at work and had successfully ignored the giant bouquet of wild flowers that had arrived at her office via courier around noon that day.

She'd fired off a quick text to Oliver, telling him that she'd be leaving town for the holidays and that she'd contact him when she was back and ready to talk. His reply had been instantaneous: _Okay, take all the time you need. Happy Hanukah. Love, O._

Damn him for being so freaking thoughtful and even remembering that she's Jewish.

She'd flown out to the West Coast to visit a few friends and then spend the last few days of Hanukah with her mom. As always, she'd slept in her childhood room in her mom's small apartment in Las Vegas, so maybe she shouldn't have been surprised when the packages started to arrive shortly after she'd unpacked her suitcase. She'd probably mentioned that particular tradition to him about going home in one of their conversations, right? So it wasn't completely freaky and stalker-y of him to send her Hanukah presents to her mom's place... right?

Just a little freaky and stalker-y.

She hadn't actually opened any of the eight packages that had come in different shapes and sizes; she'd just shoved them into her suitcase under her bed after she'd recognized the return address to be his, far away from her mom's prying eyes who'd quickly caught onto the fact that someone was going through a whole lot of trouble to send Felicity these presents. It didn't take her daughter's genius IQ to figure out just what those packages were. Eight days of Hanukah, eight packages delivered on the respective days, even on Sunday even though there was usually no mail service.

Maybe a lot freaky and stalker-y.

"No, he doesn't," Felicity says, picking up up her wine glass. "I mean, I didn't even know that I'd be back, but mom got asked to cover the New Year's shift and you know how much I like those parties in the casino."

Caitlin snorts. "I might recall one particular story you told me about a 60-year-old guy hitting on you when you were seventeen."

"Viva Las Vegas," Felicity shrugs. "Not an experience I wanted to relive."

Her best friend just gives her a smug smile. "Well, I'd be happy to be the stand-in for your mom on New Year's to do the whole wine and good conversation at home thing."

"I thought you had plans with Barry? By the way when were you going to tell me you guys were hooking up?"

There's a faint blush creeping up Caitlin's cheek. "How do you even know about that?"

Now it's Felicity's turn to grin smugly. "I have my ways." At Caitlin's narrowed eyes she continues, "Barry kinda blurted it out last week. I think seeing Oliver in my doorway rattled him pretty good."

"I'll have words with him," Caitlin grumbles. "We were going to tell you together. We just wanted to wait for the right moment and with everything that happened with Oliver..." she trails off.

"I get it, Cait." She lays a hand on Caitlin's. "And I'm really happy for you guys! You both deserve to be happy."

"So do you, Lis."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

To say that he's had a shitty two weeks would be a complete understatement. The last two weeks have been a special kind of hell that he just wants to get out of.

First, Felicity had found out who he really is – to make matters even worse it had been his arch rival Ray Palmer who'd revealed that particular secret who, fun fact, was also Felicity's college boyfriend.

By some kind of miracle she'd forgiven him for not telling her in a matter of days.

Then Connor had gone missing because he wanted to talk to Felicity to patch things up without knowing that they'd already made up the previous night. He'd been overwhelmed with relief when she'd told him that Connor was standing in her office. That relief had quickly been replaced by anger when Oliver had rushed over to Merlyn Global, only to get a text from her saying that they'd gone over to the diner across the street.

Her move had irritated him to no end. He'd specifically asked her to stay put in her office until he arrived to get his son. How dare she ignore his request and just do as she pleases? He'd been completely worked up when he'd entered the diner and gone off on her like that.

He'd regretted his words the second they left his mouth, but by then the damage was already done. Seeing her walk away with tears in her eyes had shattered his heart. Especially, knowing that there was no one to blame but him.

After his unsuccessful attempt of talking to her that same night and her subsequent escape to Vegas, he'd been worried more than ever that there was no hope left for their relationship. She hadn't reacted to the Hanukah presents and the accompanying notes he'd sent to her mom's place, or to his Happy Hanukah text on the last day of the Jewish holiday.

He only knows that she's back because he'd driven by her place the other night while picking up Connor at a friend's house and had seen that the lights in her house were on. But if she's back, why hasn't she called or texted him? Has she made her decision yet? Is her not contacting him his first clue that she's going to break up with him?

All these questions and uncertainties surrounding their relationship have been weighing on him for the past two weeks and for the first time in his professional career he's done the one thing that he promised himself he'd never do: he let his personal life affect his game.

He'd played like shit in the last two games, throwing more interceptions than in the rest of the season combined, and making rookie mistakes. Had it not been for the great performances of his team mates, they would've probably lost both games. Not that it really mattered. They'd already qualified for the play-offs thanks to the flawless first half of the season. But still, his shitty performances annoyed him, not to mention the rest of his team mates and his coaches. But nothing seemed to help. Not his own berating, Digg's warning words, or his coaches' complaints. Whenever he tried to concentrate on his game, his mind would drift to Felicity and her heartbroken expression right before she'd walked away.

And now, here he is, sitting alone in his living room on New Year's Eve, a bottle of beer in his hand, waiting as the clock ticks closer to twelve. He'd carried Connor up to his bed, after he'd fallen asleep an hour ago, but he'll have to wake him soon in time for the fireworks.

The telltale ding of the elevator that rings through his apartment pulls him out of his thoughts. His eyes flicker over to the phone on the coffee table. Why hadn't the concierge called to inform him that someone was coming up? Despite knowing them for years, he usually still called Oliver when it was just Thea or his mother coming by.

He gets up from the couch and crosses over to the foyer, forehead scrunched up in confusion. He'd definitely have to have a talk with the building manager about the concierge just letting someone come up here without calling ahead.

He rounds the corner and almost drops his beer when he sees Felicity stepping out of the elevator. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, and her dark jeans do everything to showcase her amazing legs. But it's the oversized dark green hoodie on her small frame that throws his mind into a tailspin. It's a Starling City Archers hoodie with his number on the front and his name on the back.

They stare at each other for a solid ten seconds from across the room and he doesn't dare to move a muscle in fear that the slightest movement will let him wake up from what surely has to be a dream and she'll be gone. He's not sure if he could handle that disappointment.

In the end it's Felicity who moves, dropping her purse to the floor carelessly, before basically running towards him. Her hands are framing his face, her body pressing into his, before his jumbled brain can even begin to process what's happening.

He finally breaks out of his stupor when he feels her lips crash against his in a messy kiss that's full of need and passion. All at once, his worries and fears fall off of him, quickly replaced by certainty. This isn't a kiss to say goodbye, this kiss holds a promise of hope and love and a future.

His hands find their way to her back, tracing the letters of his own name, stitched right there between her shoulder blades. Over and over again, while his lips move relentlessly against hers. His tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, begging for entrance that she grants him swiftly, as her fingers trip over the fabric of his shirt as they make their way from his face over his shoulders and chest down to his abs and then around to his back, pulling him even closer into her body.

When his brain finally catches up with what's happening, he's already backed her into the closest wall, his hands dropped down to her ass, ready to lift her up. With a sudden surge of will power that he hadn't known he had in him, he pushes away from her. The disapproving moan of protest that drops from her lips is almost enough to break his resolve, but instead of giving in he takes another half step back.

"Felicity," he whispers hoarsely.

Another groan rips from her throat and she lets her head slump back against the wall behind her, her chest heaving in an effort to supply her body with the oxygen that he deprived her of for the past seconds. Minutes?

He takes a steadying breath before stepping towards her again, catching her hands, twining their fingers together until he's not sure where he ends and she begins. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes fall shut for a second. When her lids flutter open again, there's something in her eyes he's never seen before. "I know," she says and holds his gaze. "I'm sorry for running... again."

"No, no," he quickly interjects. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I didn't make things better by running off and not talking to you," she gently points out, pressing his fingers. "We're not going to make this work if we don't talk to each other."

"Felicity, you had every right to need time and space. I screwed up big time, and so soon after we just patched things up from my last screw up," he shakes his head, dismayed with his own behavior. "I don't deserve you being here."

She wriggles one hand from his and cups his face, letting her fingertips scratch lightly through his stubble. "You know what I realized in the past few weeks?"

He shakes his head mutely, holding his breath while he waits for her answer. "I talked to a few close friends about what happened and most of them told me to dump you and not look back."

She huffs out a breath. "I defended you and what you said. The more insistent they became that there's no excuse in this world that would justify your words, the more insistent I became in your defense. It made me consider your side of things and what you must've felt like that morning."

He stares at her with wide eyes. "I am not and never will be okay with the tone you used on me that day or with they way you twisted things around to fit right in with your anger. You really hurt me with your words. And I don't know what I'll do if anything like that ever happens again. But to some degree even if I'm not okay with it, I now understand why you acted that way. But in that moment, after the emotional rollercoaster of the previous twenty-four hours, and clinging to the pain of the moment and my lingering commitmet issues, I couldn't see that. I didn't understand."

His eyes fall shut and he sucks in a shuddering breath.

"Look at me, Oliver," she urges him, tugging on his fingers with one hand while the fingertips of the other run softly over his temple until he opens his eyes and finds her gaze. "I forgive you," she says softly, leaning up to press a peck against his lips to emphasize her point. "You know why?"

"Because you're the most incredible human being that has ever walked the face of this earth?"

She breathes out a laugh. "Because I love you."

She says it like it's the simplest thing in the world. Like it doesn't make his heart thunder uncontrollably in his chest and let a million butterflies flutter in his stomach.

"And I want this, _us_ , to work. And I know this will not be the last time that we fight. We're both too stubborn for that. But, Oliver, I want us to fight for each other and to fight to always make it work. Or at least try to."

He stares down at her, swallowing thickly against all of the emotions bubbling up in his chest, promises and reassurances on the tip of his tongue. But all he can say when he finally finds his voice is, "I love you, Felicity."

She steps on her tiptoes to meet him for another languid kiss. He can feel the vibrations of her lips against his when she hums in contentment. "Mhh, just so you know, just because I'm forgiving you doesn't mean that you're done groveling. I expect lots of awesome date nights, and amazing wines, and flowers." She takes his bottom lip carefully between her teeth, pulling gently. "And lots and lots of make up sex. Can't forget about the make up sex," she whispers, a devilish smile gracing her lips.

Before he can think of a retort (read: get enough blood from his groin to his brain to think straight) a sleep-ridden voice echoes from the living room. "Dad? Where are you?"

Oliver groans in frustration and lets his forehead drop to Felicity's shoulder, ignoring how her body shakes in silent laughter as she pats his chest lightly.

"Felicity!" Connor exclaims excitedly as he rounds the corner. In a matter of seconds he manages to wedge himself between the two adults and slings his arms around Felicity's waist, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. "Are we gonna watch the fireworks together?"

"Yes, we will," she says and beams down at him, making Oliver's heart stutter in his chest.

"I'm gonna make some popcorn and then I'll show you the best place to watch the firework," Connor grins up at her and scurries off towards the kitchen.

Felicity's gaze follows him, a fond smile on her lips. Oliver frames her face with his hands, effectively making her look up at him. "I love you," he breathes out and presses a long kiss to her lips. "And we're gonna get started on the make up sex once we get Connor to bed."

She hums in agreement. "Is it twelve o'clock yet?"

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	9. Overtime

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

"Oliver, you've just crowned a spectacular season with the win of your second Super Bowl. How do you feel? And what would you like to say to your team and the fans?"

Oliver takes the mic from the interviewer and grins widely at the camera. "Thanks, Gordon. How are y'all doing?" he hollers at the crowd that immediately goes crazy. "Thank you all for coming out tonight to cheer us on. We couldn't have won this without your incredible support."

His praise is met by another thunderous eruption of applause and cheers. "How do I feel? I feel fantastic. Even though the Atoms put up one hell of a fight we came out on top and won. The whole team gave it their all and we really came together to make this win happen."

"Where will the biggest party be tonight?"

"I think that's a better question for my younger team mates," he chuckles. "I'll be happy to join them for one or two celebratory drinks, but I'll be just as happy to go home to my son and celebrate with him."

His eyes scan the packed ranks of the stadium, drifting down to the field that's filled with players and their families, photographers, and reporters. His gaze lands on a familiar shock of blonde hair not too far off from the podium. Felicity's chasing after Connor who's completely drowning in his championship t-shirt. A happy smile makes its way onto Oliver's lips while a warm feeling takes over his body that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rush from just winning his second championship ring.

"Now if you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to see." Without waiting for an answer he shoves his mic into one of the reporters' hands and half-jogs off the stage.

His steps don't slow until he's only a few feet away from his girlfriend who's giving his son a piggy-back ride now. He sneaks up behind them and grabs Connor under his arms, whirling the screeching kid through the cooling Arizona night air. "Daaaaaad, put me down."

Chuckling, he puts the kid down on the field and ruffles his hair. "How about you go over to Uncle Digg and say hi to him?"

Connor barely takes time to throw an 'okay' over his shoulder before he takes off running towards Diggle who's talking to his wife and some other team mates.

Oliver smiles to himself and steps closer to Felicity, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against his front. "Hey, how are you?" he asks, never taking his eyes off hers.

She melts into him. "Pretty good," she smiles up to him. "You just won the Super Bowl."

"I did," he muses.

"I'm proud of you."

He huffs out a sigh and drops his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry for all the stress of the last few weeks."

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and lets her eyes drift around. "This kinda makes it worth it, doesn't it?"

"Mhh," he hums noncommittally, while his hands slip from her waist to her butt, slipping slowly into the back pockets of her tight jeans. "I still plan on making it up to you... many, many times," he breathes into her ear before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

She sinks even further into and he swears he can feel a groan erupting from deep in her chest. "It's not really nice to tell me something like that in such a public place," she mumbles into his chest, and with all the noise around them it's short of a miracle that he can even hear her low voice. "But don't think for a second that I won't hold you to that later, Mister."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

'Later' actually turns out to be a few days later, once some of the cheerful ecstasy surrounding the Archers' Super Bowl win has died down a little and they're finally back home. The last few days are a colorful blur of parties and interviews, and of course the big parade through Starling City this afternoon, sharing the team's triumph with all of its citizens.

Tonight is the first quiet night he's had in a long time, and he's sharing it with his girlfriend. What better way to spend a Wednesday night?

As if she's able to read his mind, the woman in question stretches languidly against him. Her soft skin creating a delicious friction against his own. He runs the tip of his index finger ever so slowly over the naked flesh on her waist and takes an almost primal pride in the way her whole body arches into him as a shiver rocks through her.

He knows that they'll eventually have to relocate to her bed, remembering how sore a night on her couch with her had left him not too long ago, but for now, holding her in his arms, both of their skins still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, their breaths barely evened out, is a kind of pure perfection that he's not quite ready to give up.

The soft touch of her lips against his chest makes a lazy smile blossom on his lips. "What are you thinking about?"

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his voice is a little hoarse from disuse. "I love you," he says simply, thinking that that pretty much sums up his current state right about now.

He feels her lips curl into a smile against his skin, and she drops another kiss right over his heart before moving up his body. "I love you, too," she whispers against his lips when she finally reaches his face.

It's his turn to shiver. He'll never get tired of hearing those words come out of her mouth, especially when her voice is this husky after just making love to him.

And suddenly everything about his life becomes so incredibly clear to him.

"Move in with me."

It's not exactly what he wants to say to her, but at the same time, he knows that they need to be in this relationship longer than the four or so weeks they've had since they worked things out on New Year's Eve, before he can ask her to marry him without freaking her out.

Or maybe she wouldn't freak out. Not if she feels the same way about him that he feels about her.

Because Felicity's it for him. His happily ever after. His forever. His one true love.

It's a realization that would've scared him years ago, but now? It's just right. It's what he wants. She's everything he'll ever want.

She looks at him with wide eyes, her hair a little wild from where he'd gripped it earlier, her lips deliciously swollen from his kisses. "You're crazy," she huffs out, her tone somewhere between wonder and caution.

"Yes," he laughs. "Yes, I am. And I wanna spend the rest of my life being crazy with you right next to me."

Her eyebrows draw together, building a little crease on her forehead. "Oliver..."

"Hear me out, okay?" he asks quickly, sitting up on the couch, pulling her with him, never once breaking eye contact. "I'm not asking you to marry me. Not yet." He smiles softly at her sharp intake of breath. "That's a conversation for another night when we're both ready for it. But, Felicity, I'm serious about being with you and spending as much time as possible with you. I know it won't be easy with you starting your new job at QC and with me getting back to training in a few months, but I'm willing to try."

She stares at him for a long moment, her eyes boring into his soul, searching for any kind of doubt or reason not to say yes. "What about Connor?"

He's pretty sure he just fell a little more in love with her just for being so damn considerate. "He loves you, Felicity. You wouldn't believe the discussion I had with him before I came here tonight, trying to reason with him why he couldn't come, too. If that kid had a choice he'd spend every waking second with you. And I gotta say I can't blame him."

She shakes her head slightly, trying to tamp down her smile. "That may be true, but living together is a whole different thing than seeing me every few days. A little over a month ago we weren't sure if we were moving too quickly for him."

"Yes, and we slowed things down and everything is going great now," he points out, letting his thumb flit over her waist.

"So maybe we should keep things as they are for a little while longer to give him and us more time to ease into this."

His brows draw together into a frown. "So what you're saying is that you don't want to move in?" He tries really hard to keep his tone neutral but even to his own ears he sounds hurt.

A soft hand comes up to cup his jaw. "What I'm saying is that we rushed into things once and that didn't turn out all that great." He takes a breath, ready to argue but her thumb stroking his upper lip stops him. "Let me finish."

"I love you, Oliver. More than I've ever loved anybody in my entire life. And that's why I don't wanna screw this up," she says the words so softly that it makes his heart ache. "I didn't expect you. Or any of these incredibly intense feelings for you. Make no mistake, I _want_ to be with you. I want to live with you and when the day comes I want to marry you."

He's pretty sure his heart just skipped a beat. Or maybe two.

She takes a deep breath and lets her lips curl into a relaxed smile. "But, Oliver, we have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere, and you're not going anywhere. So give us both some time to adjust to our relationship and learn from our mistakes."

Something is nagging at his insides. A feeling of sorts that this isn't all that her caution is about. He can understand her reasoning, of course. The first time they moved too quickly, it blew up in their faces and almost tore them apart completely. But now they're steady, taking one step at a time, moving their relationship forward. Moving in together is just the next step, right?

"Is that all that this is about?" his mouth asks the question that's burning on the tip of his tongue before his brain can stop him.

She bites her lips.

There's definitely something else.

"Talk to me, Felicity," he urges softly, pulling her body further into his, giving her that little piece of comfort.

"I just..." she starts, but trails off, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure how I'll fit into Connor's life. I mean, I know I'm your girlfriend, that role is pretty clear, but what will I be to him? I'm not his mother. I don't... I know nothing about raising a child."

"You're amazing with him, Felicity," he breathes out, not understanding how she can doubt herself so much. "I've never been in this situation before either, so I can't give you a step-by-step description of what will happen or how much we'll have to define your role in his life. And we'll probably make mistakes and get into fights, all three of us, but that's just a natural part of our relationship, isn't it?"

"I just don't... feel comfortable taking on this huge role in his life when I have no idea what I'm dealing with. I don't want to inadvertently hurt him or force my presence and new role on him just because I'm your girlfriend." She waves her hands around helplessly.

"So we'll sit down with him and talk this through with him and come up with a way to deal with everything ahead of us," he suggests, taking her hands into his to still her movements. "We'll make this work, Felicity. If we're all willing to try, we'll make this work."

"I am. I want to make this work. I just want us to take our time and let us all adjust to the new situation."

He nods slowly. He can work with that.

"So how about we make a compromise?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"You'll stay over at my place for one or two days per week and we'll see how everything goes? If it's good, you'll stay over for one more day after a few weeks and we just play it by ear. That way we can all get used to each other, see how living together works." He shrugs lightly. "Sound okay?"

A soft smile appears on her lips and she nods. "Sounds good."

He exhales a long breath and lets his hands fall down to her body, skimming over her exposed skin. "Great, then how about we move any further discussions to your bedroom?"

She swiftly moves her body to straddle his lap and grinds up against his growing erection. "That sounds like an excellent idea. Tell me more about it."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


End file.
